


Teardrop On The Fire

by karenec



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Drama, F/M, Friendship/Love, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:57:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 104,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karenec/pseuds/karenec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anyone who has read the draft of Midnight Sun knows that Edward hides things from his family and, in particular, Bella. What if there was someone who could shed light on some of the things Edward holds back? </p><p>Warning:This story contains graphic descriptions of violence.</p><p>Teardrop On The Fire was nominated for a Sunflower Award for Best Vampire Story. And lead vamp, Julia, was nominated for a Hidden Star Award for Best Original Character and an Emerging Swan Award for Original Character.</p><p>Teardrop On The Fire banner: http://bit.ly/p5n5pH</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue – April, 1929

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Warning:This story contains graphic descriptions of violence.

Look at my hand  
There's a soul on fire  
You can lead me even higher _  
_"The Main Thing" - Roxy Music

Standing motionless in the filthy alley behind the club, I hear him joking with the two men we have been watching. His voice is a lovely purr against their harsher tones, making him sound easy and charming as he speaks with them. We decided earlier in the evening that a young girl alone amongst the clientele of this particular speakeasy would be far too memorable when and if the police questioned witnesses. Therefore, I am the one wrapped in a dark hooded cloak, waiting with the vermin that prowl through the piles of refuse lining the alley's walls.

"I'm Edward," he says as they make their introductions and one of the men orders another round of gin cocktails. Once names are exchanged, it will not be much longer before the men walk out of the club intent on showing their young new friend some of the city's more forbidden pleasures. Perhaps a trip to one of the whorehouses on the river, where one can buy a schoolgirl's virginity. Or if one prefers young boys, a slightly longer trip over the river to the southern end of the city will satisfy such urges.

"Well, Edward," the man called Jackson says. "I've got a feeling about you. I think you'll have a lot of fun with us."

I know, as does Edward, that these men have something very specific and dark in mind for the evening's activities. They are not interested in paying for fleeting moments of wet satisfaction in the embrace of the working girls. Their interests lay in hunting. They want nothing more than to stalk a woman into the evening, chasing her until she is trembling with terror. They want her to beg for mercy before they violate her in every grotesque way their twisted minds can dream up.

Edward and I have been watching these men for about a week and know all about their habits. We have become familiar with the patterns of their days, watching them perform their mundane jobs by day and prowl the streets by night. We have seen them searching for the woman that lights the spark in their shared desire to become monsters. We have stood inside the fetid basement where they bring their quarry and smelled terror.

Last night, as they passed a florist's shop on Bow Street, the men saw a young woman at the counter placing a new shipment of flowers into large water-filled vases. Their hunger to destroy her flared as they watched her move about the store. The men hardly exchanged a word, but I sensed the change in them with total certainty; they would hunt her very soon.

She was slender and quite lovely, her golden hair shining in marcelled waves and her skin glowing with good health. There was a gold band shining on her left ring finger as she arranged the blooms, and I saw a matching ring on the finger of the man who entered the room to stand beside her. The two exchanged loving smiles, looking content as they worked together.

"That's her husband," Edward murmured, his voice too low for human ears to hear. "They run the business together. Her name is Marion."

"They're going to take her," I replied in a voice just as hushed, nodding toward the hunters watching their prey. "And they'll do it soon."

Edward's fingers brushed my right wrist gently, signaling that he agreed with me. No doubt, he could hear very specifically what the hunters were thinking. He also knew that my instinct for identifying a person's intent had never been wrong.

Now we are waiting for the men to leave the club so we can begin our game. As the minutes tick by, I sense the intentions of the men in Edward's company growing steadily more violent and disturbed. I know we are right to act now before they harm anyone else. I feel some sympathy for Edward for having to hear twisted impulses of these men so explicitly. I also know that his present disgust and outrage will feed the savage joy he feels later tonight when we show the men what we are.

The sound of chairs scraping the floor alerts me to the fact that Edward is herding our quarry out of the club. Excitement rushes through me as a smile of anticipation crosses my lips. I step away from the wall to make my way soundlessly toward the street; if I had a heartbeat it would be speeding with excitement.

I can hear the men talking and joking as I follow them silently, taking care to cloak myself in the shadows of buildings and alleyways, sometimes slipping behind automobiles. There is nothing in this night for me to fear; I am the most dangerous being one might encounter apart from Edward. But the game Edward and I are playing tonight requires stealth on my part to be truly satisfying and thus I have become a phantom.

"Where are we going?" Edward asks, his voice amused but tinged with a dangerous tension that the men do not recognize.

"Well, Edward... what do you say to a little show tonight?" Jackson is the more cerebral and sadistic of the two hunters. Among his many predilections, he takes particular pleasure in using the girls they catch as ashtrays for his cigarettes.

Jackson's words spark a wicked glee in his partner, Cleary, a man motivated purely by his brutish senses; I can hear his heart rate increase with excitement. While intelligent, he is a slave to the dumb desires of his meaty body. He returns to plunder the captives repeatedly until long after the women are able to respond in any way. Characteristically, he says nothing as his partner speaks, allowing Jackson to choose the path things will take.

"Why not?" Edward replies gamely. I can picture the easy smile spreading across his face as he speaks, knowing he will appear to the hunters like a young man eager for new adventures. If Edward's reactions to tonight's activities do not please the men, they will turn on him without hesitation.

The hunters lead him toward Bow Street, past crowds of young men coming and going from the University. The mild spring weather has brought the city's inhabitants out and the pavements are crowded with patrons frequenting the cafes and businesses that surround the school.

Jackson and Cleary approach the florist's shop at a quick pace, eager to begin their fun, with Edward close behind. I round the corner in time to see Cleary lazily drawing the window shade while Jackson stands at the counter with the girl. Just before the shade obscures my view, I see confusion written plainly on Marion's face but no fear. She is not yet frightened of the three well-dressed men in her shop.

"My friends and I were hoping that you would like to join us in a little fun this evening," Jackson says to her silkily. "And your husband too, of course."

"My husband? Oh, he had to step out," Marion replies pleasantly. I imagine she is smiling in turn at each of the men facing her. "We ran out of daffodils, you see, and we have a delivery to make in the morning. He's gone to fetch some from the flower market."

The sound of the door's deadbolt locking is very loud. The following silence is even louder.

"I... my husband will be back quite soon," Marion says brightly. It is clear she understands the gravity of mistake in revealing that she is alone. "I expect him any moment, so if you would allow me to fill your orders, I can get you squared away."

"That won't be necessary, my dear," Jackson replies. "We're not here for flowers. We're here for you."

The seconds that pass as they move in to take her are filled with volumes of sounds. Jackson's footsteps rounding the counter to approach Marion and her accelerated heartbeat as adrenaline floods her body. Cleary's dark chuckle as he moves to assist his partner, tongue dragging wetly over his lips. Marion's squeal of fear, muffled by a hand pressing over her mouth, and her feet stumbling over the floor as she is dragged into a rough embrace. Edward's tiny sigh of exasperation, pitched far too low to be heard by anyone but me.

The sigh makes me smile; I know Edward is growing impatient.

"Come on," Jackson says, his voice thick with lust. "We're going to have some fun with the flower lady here."

The foursome makes their way out of the back of the shop to the alley where Cleary parked his car earlier in the day. They take turns climbing in with Jackson restraining Marion in the backseat. Cleary guides the car onto the streets of the city, which are relatively clear due to the late hour. Knowing where they are headed, I take off at a dead run, moving much faster than any car.

I am no longer careful to hide myself and allow the hood of the cape to slip off my head as I run; no one can see me at the speed I am moving. Within minutes, I am standing outside of the building that sits over the hunters' basement. It will be a little while before the men catch up to me, and I lean against the wall of the building to wait.

This area is almost entirely abandoned, with long blocks of emptied buildings and warehouses standing silent. It is wholly deserted in the evenings, and I make no effort to conceal myself. If anyone were to see me, I might be mistaken for a young man. Under the cloak, I am dressed in what Edward jokingly refers to as my Earhart duds: aviator trousers, a button down shirt, riding boots, and a shearling coat. My hair is tucked out of the way under a little cap. I prefer to play this game without the annoyance of tight dresses, hose, and heels; I am nothing if not practical.

Edward and I know that the men will leave their car at the edge of this dead neighborhood and release Marion into the dark streets. Unfamiliar with the surroundings, she will run blindly in her terror while the men stalk her easily, herding her toward the basement where she will die.

To that end, I hear car doors slamming in the distance and the sound of racing footsteps. Marion is weeping openly as she flees, her breathing ragged and panicked.

The men split up to more effectively railroad their prey, Jackson bringing Edward with him while Cleary runs alone. The men jog along easily, occasionally popping into Marion's path to reroute her. They laugh cruelly at the sound of her screams when she catches sight of them, and Jackson mocks her desperate prayers for help.

Edward is silent through much of the chase; I do not hear even so much as his breathing for some time. Finally, he gives a short, harsh laugh as Jackson taunts Marion. I do not know if he is laughing to ensure the men do not suspect anything is amiss or out of rage.

I retreat as Marion and the men draw steadily closer, moving along the wall of the building to conceal myself in the dark shadows. Edward and I want the men to enter the basement before me make them aware of my presence.

Marion totters into view at last, and the sight of her fills me with pity. Her dress and hands are dirty from falling and her pretty face is tearstained and swollen. Her expression changes from desperation to terror when Cleary, Jackson, and Edward arrive closely behind her. She begins to back away from them, crying incoherently, and backs directly into the doorway of the basement that was the hunters' destination all along.

"That's right," Jackson croons around a wicked smile. "That's a good girl. Go downstairs. It's time to play."

"Please, please." Marion is begging in a voice choked with horror. She backs down the stairs into the basement as she bargains. "I... I just want to go home. Please! Just let me go home!"

Jackson and Cleary follow her slowly down the stairs, Cleary holding a camping lantern before him to light their way. He is chuckling as he steps, probably already granite hard in anticipation of Marion's body naked and shuddering with fear underneath him. Jackson is deadly silent, though I have no doubt his mind is teeming with ideas for wringing screams from the soft young girl.

Just before stepping down the stairs, Edward whispers, his voice floating over the cool air. "Julia."

In less than an instant, I am standing beside him. We take a second's time to look at each other before beginning our descent. Edward's mouth is set in a grim line and his eyes are blazing with fury. I do not know what he sees in my expression, but his lips pull up in a crooked, angry smile before his fingers ghost by my elbow and we walk down the stairs into the cellar.

Jackson and Cleary are advancing on Marion when I softly clear my throat to draw their attention. They turn and their eyes widen to see me standing beside Edward. The blank surprise on Cleary' face is so profound, it's almost comical; Jackson is harder to read.

Behind them, Marion is standing rigid with fear in the center of the room. Her chalky face is all eyes and her breaths come in gasping cries. Her terrified expression wavers when she sees me beside Edward, becoming wildly hopeful for a moment before she collapses to the ground.

Edward chuckles darkly at my side; Marion fainting simplifies everything. We do not need to worry about her while we finish our game with the men. When she wakes up in her shop a few hours from now, they will be dead and she will be none the wiser as to what happened to them or where they are buried.

Moving too fast for the men to see, Edward scoops Marion from the floor and carries her outside. We both know it would not do for her to be in the room with us when we are ready to begin; Edward and I are unguarded in those moments and prone to impulse. Before the men notice he has moved or Marion has vanished, Edward is standing by my side again.

"Who's this, Edward?" Jackson asks in a low, pleasant voice. He is smiling at me fixedly but his pale blue eyes are cold and murderously angry. "You should have told us you were bringing a guest."

Edward's smile is baleful, so much so that Cleary takes a step backward. Jackson's smirk drops from his face. The men do not understand what has happened to turn their evening upside down, but they sense that they are no longer in control. Their instincts are telling them that something is not quite right about Edward and me; that we are, in fact, dangerous.

"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce my friend, Julia," Edward replies formally, giving me a wide smile that I return fondly.

"And will Julia be playing with us tonight?" Jackson asks. He pays me rapt attention as he closes the gap between us, his eyes fixed on mine. He stops only when he is much closer than polite society dictates is proper, his hot breath whispering across my collarbone.

"Or will we playing with Julia?" he murmurs, stroking my cheekbone with his fingers. His voice falters when I deliberately exhale a long breath in his face. His pupils dilate as my scent stuns him and the fingers on my cheek tremble.

"You were correct the first time, Mr. Jackson," I say with smile, locking his gaze with mine. "I'm here to play with you and Mr. Cleary, though not in the way you imagine, I'm afraid.

"Edward and I are here to finish your games, Mr. Jackson. To finish you and Mr. Cleary, as a matter of fact."

Before Jackson can form a retort or Cleary draw breath to warn of the expression dawning on my face, Edward is across the room yanking Cleary's arms behind his back. I hear a crunch and scream of pain as one of the man's shoulders dislocates. Cleary's scream is still hanging in the air when I spin Jackson around, pinning his wrists with my hands. I pull Jackson closer, pressing my face over his left shoulder, and relish his gasp when he feels my cold lips against his neck. He is taller than I am, and sensible enough to struggle against the bonds formed by my hands. His struggles are nothing to me, however, and his panic at being unable to break free becomes evident in his jerky movements and breathing.

"It's time you met the real monsters, Mr. Jackson," Edward murmurs softly, pushing Cleary forward. Cleary's face is gray with pain and shining with sweat, and he stumbles as Edward moves him. "What you and Mr. Cleary have been doing to those girls is reprehensible, to be sure. But you're nothing compared to real monsters."

"Nothing compared to us," I agree, nuzzling Jackson's jaw with my nose.

"What the hell is this," Jackson roars, his fear mixed with rage at being overcome by two youths, one of them a girl. His struggles to free himself from my stone embrace are ineffectual, which feeds his fear and anger. He feeds my lust to destroy him.

"This, Mr. Jackson, is where you die," I whisper tenderly against the warm skin of his neck. His shouts of protest hardly register over my bloodlust.

My eyes flick toward Edward just as his gaze meets mine. His eyes are blazing with hunger and shadowed by his fury for what the men have done in this stinking hole. Shadowed too, I know, by his self-loathing; no matter how many times we purge the night of vermin like these men, Edward's conscience is never quite silent.

Edward dips his head gracefully, brushing his lips against Cleary's throat before sinking his teeth into the man's flesh. He crushes Cleary to his chest, groaning over the sound of the man's ribs cracking. Jackson echoes the dying man's scream, his eyes round with horror, as he understands his fate at last.

So help me, I love these moments: the terror of the men as they face retribution for their sins, the purity of Edward's rage, the thirst roaring in my throat before I strike. I cannot help smiling before I draw back to bite Jackson's neck, grinding against him when the first mouthful of hot blood hits my tongue.

Then there is only my thirst and the singing of the blood as it floods down my throat in great draughts. It is rich and oh, so sweet, sending waves of the deepest satisfaction I have ever known crashing through me. There is a roar in my ears. A buzz deep inside me heightens my euphoria. The blood quenches my longing as it does my thirst. The blood is everything I want. The blood is ecstasy.

Too soon, it is gone. I let the dead man drop and begin to come back to myself, keeping my eyes closed while my breaths slow. Edward sighs softly as he casts Cleary onto the floor beside his partner and I know he is still thirsty. He will put off any further hunting for the time being. There are still the men to dispose of and Miriam to return to her husband.

We stand silently for a moment, while the blood of the men we have drained thrums inside us. At last, I open my eyes to meet Edward's across the space separating us, his beauty striking me. In the middle of this hellhole, he is a cold and terrible angel, his eyes shining like bloody rubies in the light of a dead man's lantern.


	2. Chapter 1: Chicago, 1920

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Warning:This chapter contains some description of violence.

Lend me your eyes I can change what you see,  
but your soul you must keep, totally free

"Awake My Soul" - Mumford & Sons

I have been in Chicago about a month when I realize someone is watching me. Sometimes the unmistakable scent of another vampire crossing mine catches my attention. Occasionally, I hear musical voices that are too distant to distinguish individual words but are plainly not human. Most often, it is simply an occasional awareness of eyes trained on me as I seek comfort in my solitary pursuits.

Under normal circumstances, the presence of another vampire should concern me. My definition of normal, however, has been turned upside down. The one constant in my life has been removed and I am rudderless and adrift in a world that has become unfamiliar. Rather than feeling anything like apprehension that I am being observed, I feel nothing.

I act as though nothing is out of the ordinary. I read my books and write in my journal. I explore the city and visit its museums after dark. I do not play my cello, though I sometimes stroke the case as if to remind it and myself that I still care.

I take to hunting early in the evenings and then running to the lakeshore. There I can walk along the water's edge all night with nothing but the lap of the water and the breeze to keep me company. It is wonderful and lonesome in the darkness, and the solitude calms me when my thoughts are tangled.

One evening, I have been walking by the lake for about four hours when I hear footsteps behind me. I stop mid-stride and turn to see the figure of a young man standing by the water's edge. The moon is nearly full and I can see him clearly in the bright moonlight. He is tall, with long limbs and graceful posture. His face is quite lovely, all chiseled planes and large eyes, his lips full but still masculine. His suit is beautifully cut, his shoes gleam, and even his Homburg is immaculate.

His impeccable appearance makes me abruptly aware of my own and how much it has lately suffered. Since beginning my solitary travels, I find it difficult to care about how I look. I no longer open the suitcase I carry with me from city to city. I know my dress is worn looking and my shoes are smudged with dirt. I am hatless and my bobbed hair is dusty. I smooth my hands over the skirt of my dress, feeling a vague sense of shame to be so bedraggled in the presence of such elegance.

"You mustn't think such thoughts." A richly musical voice reaches my ears, soft and polite.

 _How_ _the_ _hell_ _does_ _he_ _know_ _what_ _I_ _am_ _thinking?_ My eyes snap up to meet his, which are strangely pale in the moonlight, and for a moment I see in his face a gentle kindness mixed with sympathy. Without warning, my confusion is replaced by a flood of anger; I am certain I see pity in his expression. A snarl pushes its way through my chest and my hands ball into fists. I feel my face curl into a sneer before I whirl around to sprint away from him.

The lakeshore and water are a blur around me and I am running as fast as I can, nursing my rage. I hear my shoes lightly hitting the soft ground as I fly over it, and my anger begins to ebb. Until I hear steps behind me, speeding effortlessly to close the gap between us. He pulls up alongside me and I glance at him as we speed over the ground. He appears to be running quite easily and I am forced to recognize I cannot outrun him; he is faster on his feet than I am.

I know he is not interested in attacking me, but I am not ready for what I read in his intentions; he wants to talk.

"Stop for a moment, Julia," he calls with a questioning look on his face. "Let's talk."

 _Good_ _Christ._ _How_ _does_ _he_ _know_ _my_ _name?_ So great is my surprise, I nearly stop in my tracks and recover just in time to stay on course. I am not ready to talk to him or to anyone. I certainly am not going to stop simply because he asks, no matter how polite he is. But I must say something to make him end his pursuit; if we keep running like this, we will be in Wisconsin before dawn.

"I don't want to talk to you," I call back, glowering at him. My voice is raspy with disuse; it has been at least two months since I have had a need to speak aloud. "I want you to leave me alone. Please."

I don't know what spurs me to add the 'please' but his expression changes when he hears it, his eyebrows pulling together as he frowns. He does not appear angry as much as disappointed, and I am chagrined to realize that this bothers me. I realize, in fact, that I have experienced a wider range of emotions in the last fifteen minutes than in the entire time I have been on my own.

"I'll stop here," he says, beginning to slow. "But this isn't over."

 _The_ _hell_ _it_ _isn't._ I grind my teeth as I run on, feeling anger surge through me again at his presumption.

"My name is Edward." These are his last words before he stops and I race away from him into the night.

I reach the Wisconsin state line before dawn. I spend the day exploring a forest preserve near the state line, trying not to think about the night before or the young vampire who called himself Edward. At dusk, I turn back toward Chicago. As I run, I wonder if Edward really means to approach me again after my abrupt behavior. I wonder why he wants to speak to me and how he seems to hear my thoughts. Idly, I wonder if he would like to hunt with me.

It is late when I approach my rented shotgun house. I notice the scent immediately, something like honey and sweet flowers, and I recognize it from the night before as Edward's. It is strong around the house, bringing an involuntary growl from me, but the inside of the house is clear. Whatever Edward wants, he respects the simple boundaries set by the walls of the house.

Once inside, I pass through the three rooms, lighting the lamps in each as I walk. Returning to the bedroom, I open my suitcase to find a change of clothes. I run a bath and take pleasure in the hot water and slickness of the soap.

Cleaned and dressed, I approach the mirror. My reflection levels a cool stare back at me and I know I look better. If I see Edward again, I will be on equal footing, or at least I will appear less like the nomad I have become. I feel another surge of irritation at myself for caring what he thinks.

That night, I open my cello case for the first time since starting my solitary travels. I do not remove the beautiful instrument from the case, but instead touch the gleaming wood lovingly. I feel genuine comfort in this simple act.

I catch sight of Edward several times over the next several days, though he makes no move to approach me. I feel sure he is deliberately showing himself, probably to allow me time to steel myself for another confrontation. I have been preparing myself for just such a meeting. Whatever feelings I have had since that first night during our race around the lake, curiosity is now at the forefront. With a handful of sentences, Edward has hooked me and drawn me in; I will be ready if the time comes for us to talk.

As before, I am walking along the lake when Edward approaches me, this time coming toward me rather than from behind. I stop to wait quietly as he closes the distance, sensing again that he wants only to talk. I watch his face and posture as he nears. He stops about ten feet away with his strange, pale eyes fixed on mine.

"This is certainly easier than the other night," Edward says lightly, the corners of his mouth turning up.

"Perhaps for you." My voice is still rough. I know that, despite the clean dress and shining hair under the hat, my expression and eyes are cold. I am curious about this strange being, but not so stupid as to forego caution.

"I apologize for surprising you the other night," Edward says, apologetically. "I didn't mean for things to happen that way but..." He breaks off and looks over at the water as if searching for the right words before looking at me again. "Well, I suppose I didn't plan things out very well."

I allow a small grin smile to cross my lips as I consider his perplexed expression.

"That's probably at the root of your failure. Pardon me for saying that you don't look like a particularly spontaneous person," I say, slyly.

Edward surprises me by laughing, looking down this time as his left hand comes up to rub a thumb over his forehead. He removes his hat and looks at me again, running a hand through an unruly shock of dark hair. His face is even more charming when he smiles.

"Very astute," he says, still chuckling. His smile grows wider as he slowly walks to stand at my side. He gestures with his hat in hand toward the city as he asks, "Would you care to walk back with me?"

After a moment, I nod, chancing another grin as I turn and we begin walking in companionable silence.

"My name is Julia," I say after we have walked a mile or so. Then I remember my surprise the other night when he had addressed me and I chuckle. "Julia MacInnes. Not that you need me to tell you that, Edward."

Edward laughs softly again, nodding somewhat sheepishly at me when I glance his way. "It's Cullen, by the way," he says, answering the thought I am turning over in my head. "My last name is Cullen."

"How can you tell what I'm thinking?" I ask, sincerely curious. "Are you able to hear my thoughts?"

"Yes," he replies simply, stuffing his hands in his pockets with a shrug. "It's just something I can do."

I absorb this information without much surprise, having assumed it was something like that. I have even once met another vampire with a similar but slightly different gift. I pluck up the courage to speak again, feeling very foolish when I remember that he hears everything going through my head anyway.

"I can... see what people's intentions are. As they have them, that is," I say finally, tilting my head back to look at the moonlit sky as we walk, tasting the cool air that is heavy with Edward's honey and flower scent. "That's why I decided to talk to you. I... I knew you only wanted conversation."

I roll my head toward Edward to see him nod again. Whether or not he hears what I am thinking, he is polite and allows me to speak. It doesn't matter so much that he allows me to get the words out, but more that I am speaking to him at all.

Just like that, we begin to become friends.

We talk through the evening and into the dawn as we walk into and around Chicago, haltingly at first, growing more at ease as the hours pass. Soon we were conversing freely, as if we have known each other much longer than a few hours. I realize that it has been far too long since I have spent time simply enjoying conversation with anyone.

"How old are you, Julia?" Edward asks. I note that he has the decency to look a bit sheepish as he frames what is usually a delicate question to pose to a lady.

"I've been this way for ten years, if that's what you're asking." Questions of age have never bothered me. Now, of course, my age is irrelevant.

"Well, that was part of it, certainly. I also wanted to know how old you were when you were turned." He grins, his expressive eyebrows rising a bit on his forehead.

"I was nineteen, Edward," I reply, returning his smile. "So, in a manner of speaking, I'm still nineteen."

"Ah, an older woman." Edward's expression is smug, forcing me to hold back my own laughter.

"Goodness, how rude you are," I scold. "Just how much younger are you than I?"

"Not all that much. I'm seventeen," he responds archly, a smile lighting his face.

"Seventeen, forever. There's a song in there somewhere, Edward," I say dryly. His laugh rings out in the night.

Edward seems insatiable for details about my nomadic life. Strangely, I find myself equally curious about him, especially when he tells me about the other vampire in his coven, Carlisle, who is a doctor to the humans. It is strange to realize that I am hungry for a connection to another being.

"Why are you alone?" Edward asks gently. We have stopped on the Michigan Avenue Bridge to gaze down at the river. "To me you seem more like a coven vampire than a nomad."

"My maker left me," I blurt out, almost without thinking, and close my eyes as a wave of shame crashes over me. Guilt follows closely behind.

"Julia," Edward says softly, and his sympathy is once again terrible and provocative.

"I shouldn't have said that," I reply through gritted teeth before taking a deep breath to get my emotions under control. I am able to continue more calmly after a moment. "I don't know what happened, truthfully. I came back from hunting one day and Miranda, my maker, was gone from our house.

"Her things were still there. There was no note of goodbye. And... well, if she'd intended to leave I would have sensed it." I sigh, hanging my head a bit as I consider the swirling water below us.

"Unless... unless she'd made a spontaneous decision to leave while I was out. That would have been the only way to have avoided tipping me off," I say, my voice very quiet. Beside me, Edward hums softly in sympathy.

"At the end of the day, I don't know why she's gone or where," I say finally, turning to face him and meet his question head on. "I waited a couple of weeks for her to return. When she didn't, I packed some things, left a note, and moved on."

"I'm sorry, Julia." Edward's expression and voice are sorrowful as he regards me, and I have nothing to reply in return. We stand silently for a while, the rushing river below us the only sound in the night air.

"Your eyes." We have resumed walking and as the sky begins to lighten, I can see just how pale his eyes are. "They are an unusual color, are they not? I can see it, even in the moonlight."

Edward nods his mouth quirking up in a half smile. "We - my father, Carlisle, and I - hunt animals. The animal blood has made our eyes a golden amber, rather than crimson."

 _What_ _the_ _hell_ _is_ _he_ _talking_ _about?_ I halt in my tracks as his words register. Edward stops a few steps ahead and turns back when he realizes I have fallen behind. I simply looked at him, allowing my confusion to show on my face though I say nothing; knowing he hears my thoughts saves me from trying to articulate a coherent response.

"Carlisle doesn't believe in killing humans," Edward replies, his head slightly bowed, voice low and serious. His hands are clasped behind his back holding his hat, and his posture is one of deep thought.

"So it's about the humans?" I find my voice and my feet at last. Edward falls in step easily beside me as I struggle to wrap my head around what he has said.

"Such is the burden of conscience," Edward says lightly, though we both know his words are gravely serious. "He values humans' lives too much to hunt them. We hunt the animals instead. They are more than adequate to sustain us and keep us strong."

I am silent for a time, absorbing this information while Edward and I stroll along the empty streets. Eventually, we reach the shotgun house and I turn on the doorstep to look at him in the weak light of dawn. His lovely face is solemn and I detect nervousness there and in his stance. It is as though he is waiting for me to do or say something irrevocable, to end our discussion permanently.

"Do you share Carlisle's belief, Edward?" I ask at last, speaking kindly. I do not want to hurt this strange boy's feelings by challenging him, but I cannot hold back my curiosity. "Do you value human life more than your own existence?"

"Yes, of course," Edward replies almost glibly. His strange eyes tighten as if he knows he has given something away before he steps back and smiles. As he places his hat back on his head, I notice that his hair is an unusual shade of brown flecked with reddish bronze.

"I'll see you tomorrow I think, Julia," he says. He sends a cheeky wink my way before darting away.

I see Edward nearly every day after our first real discussion. Edward shows me the city on overcast days and by night, or we walk along the lake, sometimes running purely for the enjoyment of it. We spend sunny days in Edward and Carlisle's fine house where I am enchanted to find an enormous library of books including a selection of poetry. Edward listens indulgently while I read Frost aloud, admitting only afterward that he prefers Pound.

"Why didn't you stop me?" I scold, slipping the volume back on to the shelf.

"Honestly, it's much nicer hearing it read aloud than reading it myself on paper," Edward assures me. He pulls the volume out again and hands it to me. "The grace in his verses is much clearer when a voice other than mine is speaking them."

Often, Edward plays the piano and his music choices are a barometer of his mood. He plays Rachmaninoff and Stravinsky when he is feeling stormy, sometimes Beethoven, and turns to Ravel and Debussy when his moods are gentle. Sometimes he plays his own compositions and we discuss them for hours afterward. I take only pleasure in being able to sit and hear music pouring out of the beautiful instrument; the music is calming after so many weeks spent in the company of only my own thoughts.

Edward badgers me playfully about my cello until I finally agree late one afternoon to play for him. I go home to change into something suitable for playing and return with the case. Ignoring my nervousness, I settle the beautiful instrument against me with the reverence I always feel. For a moment, before the bow touches the strings, I hold my breath, willing myself to be calm. I want to share music with this boy as he has so often done with me over the last few weeks.

Bach's first Cello Suite begins pouring out of the strings beneath my fingers and bow and it is at once wonderful and shocking. I climb inside the notes as they fill me so that I am weightless and soaring, bursting with the sound. But I have forgotten how much I feel when I play, how utterly helpless I am to my emotions when the music is rolling over and through me. I am crushed in an enormous wave of need, desire, and despair.

I play until I become so lost in the music and my grief I feel as though my chest will split in two. Edward's face comes into view and the sadness I see there staggers me. Abruptly, I lay down the cello and stand; one moment longer and I will crush the instrument to dust. Without a word, I flee the house, mindlessly racing again to the lake where I can run until I find some semblance of control. Edward leaves me alone, giving me space to process the turmoil he heard in my thoughts as I played.

When I return to the shotgun house late in the night, my cello is in its usual place, a note card resting on the case. On the card is written the address of the Chicago post office box with a line in Edward's elegant hand:

_If and when you need to reach us._

The next day is overcast and we act as if nothing out of the ordinary happened last night. We drive Edward's car out of the city and drive past farms and unspoiled countryside. Edward parks the car by a particularly pretty pasture dotted with apple trees and lazy Holsteins. We find a tree to lie under and enjoy the earthy aromas of grass and cow that fill the air.

"Are you ever lonely, Edward?" I ask. I have never once seen Carlisle at the house in the weeks that Edward and I have been keeping each other company.

"Not really," Edward replies, throwing his hands behind his head. "There are a lot of things to occupy my time. And when Carlisle has time off, we travel and see new things.

"Why do you ask?" His golden eyes slide my way, his expression grown curious.

"Why do you like spending time with me?" I ask, rather than answering his question, turning on to my side to face him, curling my right arm under my head like a pillow. "What made you want to talk to me that first night?"

Edward's brow furrows in puzzlement as his eyes search my face. "Do I need a reason to want to talk to you, Julia?"

"No," I reply, running the fingers of my free hand through the grass. "I just wondered what made you approach me that night at the lake."

Edward is quiet for a long time, his eyes turning away from me to focus on the sky overhead. I have decided he will not answer me when his eyes turn to me again.

"It was your thoughts," he says, softly. "I heard your thoughts one night when I was walking. You never spoke aloud but the dialogue in your mind was so detailed.

"Your thoughts caught my attention and I followed them until I saw you. Then I couldn't understand why you were alone. I decided to approach you, find out why you spoke only in your mind and why you were on your own."

"So you made a project of me?" This thought unsettles me. My uneasiness grows further when I realize that, again, Edward's opinion matters to me.

"No," Edward says honestly. "I made a friend. I wanted a friend."

We are silent as the afternoon passes, the twilight deepening into dusk. Ever the gentleman, Edward helps me to my feet and holds the door for me open as we climb into the car. Just before he starts the engine, he turns to me with an unreadable expression.

"I'm not sure lonely is the right word for the way I feel," he tells me.

I say nothing in return.

That evening Edward introduces me to Carlisle, who has the next several nights off from the hospital. We spend that evening and the next day discussing what I have come to think of as the Cullen's alternative philosophies. I like gentle Carlisle and admire his need to continue helping humans in his role as a doctor. I disagree, however, with his opinions regarding the humans and our presence among them. That he, Edward, or any vampire is obligated to make amends to human society strikes me as fundamentally incorrect and whimsical. Disagreeing on such points with Carlisle and Edward, however, does nothing to dissuade me from enjoying their company. Even their gentle attempts to persuade me to change my own hunting habits are not enough to keep me away.

"We don't need them, Julia," Edward says quietly. We are sifting through sheet music in a shop on South State Street as we engage in debate.

"Clearly you and Carlisle have proved that," I agree, putting some Bartok aside from the pile in my hands. "I can even imagine myself turning in that direction if there were ever a need for discretion or if there was simply no other alternative."

"Then why are we still having this discussion?" Edward is amused by my pragmatism.

"Because, Edward, while I understand why you and Carlisle are going on with this... regimen," I cannot keep a bit of sarcasm from coloring my voice. "I personally don't understand why anyone would willingly adopt it. Particularly out of some misguided belief that we owe the humans this abstinence."

I am treated to one of Edward's disgruntled huffs before he changes the subject.

Edward does not abandon his campaign to change my tastes, however, and our discussions regarding my hunting of humans become heated, sometimes carrying on for days at a time. We are engaged in the second day of just such a debate as we climb in the window of what should be an abandoned house by the waterfront, seeking shelter from a passing rain shower.

I hear it as soon as my feet hit the floor under the window: the wet and luscious thumping of a human heart. I have not hunted in several days and my eyes are dark with thirst. Flames leap painfully in my throat and the growl that rolls through me is an unconscious utterance. Only Edward's forceful attempts at restraining me keep me from racing toward that delicious sound to drain every hot drop of blood with delight.

My efforts to shake Edward off are noisy enough to alert my prey. A young boy darts past the room and out another window at the end of the hall. He is dirty and ragged, probably close to the age I had been when I lost my humanity. I can smell a sickness on him that speaks of long neglect and chronic malnutrition.

Normally, I do not hunt the young, preferring to find my prey among the criminals and street toughs that prowl the city. Now, however, my thirst and Edward's interference enrage me. The look of disgust on Edward's face as he lets me go makes me lose all patience with him. Spinning away, I tear up the stairs of the building to the top floor. Edward follows close behind.

I find myself in a room at the back of the building, pacing before the row of now paneless windows. Edward watches me silently as I try to rein in my emotions. He waits for me to be able to speak without shouting the words that are ringing through my head.

"What is it like?" he asks at last, his amber eyes burning gold with sudden intensity.

I stop abruptly and stare hard at him. "Edward, have you never tasted human blood?"

"Never."

"Good God." I shake my head and resume my pacing, still gazing him. "I thought you'd just given it up. I didn't realize you'd never... I didn't realize."

"Never," he repeats, his face becoming slightly defensive. "Neither has Carlisle, other than mine when he changed me. Carlisle has never hunted humans."

"But you're curious," I say. Understanding has begun to dawn on me. "You want to know what you're missing, so to speak."

"Yes. No. I'm not sure," he admits. He removes his hat, rubbing one hand hard through his rebellious hair.

"Why should I tell you?" I stop pacing to stand a few feet in front of him.

He is silent. I know what he is after. He has seen my face after I hunt, heard the music in my voice and my delirious thoughts after my thirst is sated. He wants to know that I do not feel simply satisfied after hunting, but deliciously alive.

"It's... everything. All that you might imagine," I said honestly, my eyes locked on his. "And more. You know this already, Edward."

Shock passes over Edward's face for a moment. He crosses the space between us, looking down into my face for a long moment before he whispers, "No, I don't know. Not all of it. Tell me."

We are so close that I feel his breath on my cheekbones. Any closer and my cheek will be resting against his chest. Any closer and his arms will be around my waist.

"Does Carlisle know you feel this way?" I ask abruptly.

"What?" Edward snaps, on the defensive again. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you wanting to hunt men, Edward," I reply evenly, working hard against grinding my teeth in frustration. "Does Carlisle know you want to hunt men?"

"I don't want to hunt men, Julia," Edward protests, laughing as he steps away from me, his expression scornful.

His derision wounds me and I am angered by his mocking words. I have allowed him to get too close. No, I have allowed _myself_ to get too close. I dropped my defenses and now my emotions are tied, even just slightly, to Edward's, leaving me vulnerable. _How_ _could_ _I_ _have_ _I_ _let_ _this_ _happen?_

"Edward, stop," I counter, so furious I am trembling. "You may be able to hide the way you feel from Carlisle, but I know better. You wouldn't be asking me these questions if you weren't more than curious. You wouldn't be looking at me that way if you didn't yearn to experience these feelings for yourself."

"You're wrong," he persists stubbornly. He is stiff with discomfort and I mourn hurting his feelings even while I recoil from this understanding.

"I'm just trying to understand you, Julia, to understand what the difference is between us when it comes to whom and what we hunt."

I can only gape at him for a moment. "That is the biggest load of nonsense I've ever heard," I retort, throwing my hands up in frustration. "You can't put this off on mere edification, Edward. That's a lie! You're lying to yourself, to Carlisle and to me."

"Julia, be reasonable," Edward replies in an uncannily smooth voice. A very un-Edward voice, to be precise.

A patronizing expression slips into place on Edward's face, marring his handsome features. I realize that I have discovered something about Edward that he himself is not ready to face. Something that may be frightening him. Rather than face the raw power of my words, he retreats behind a façade of culture and good manners.

"All I'm trying to do is talk to you, there's no reason to be irrational," he says with utmost confidence, cocking an eyebrow at me almost in amusement.

"Edward, that's enough," I say quietly, all of the fight in me draining away.

I step to the window and turn to look back at his confused expression. "When you're ready to be honest with yourself and me, we can talk. Until then, you'll need to find another vampire to research."

Springing easily out of the window, I drop the three stories, hit the ground, and tear off into the dusk.

When I am sure he has not followed me, I go directly to the most dangerous section of the city to hunt. Few of the men that cross my path in the next hours are spared; I crush their throats with a fury I have never felt before. Each stilled heart fuels my anger further.

At last, I can drink no more and find myself running again. This time, I don't stop any longer than it takes to pack my suitcase and cello before going to the train station. Within an hour of leaving the shotgun house, I am riding east on a train.

I sit silently as the train passes through the states, the terrain changing with the miles. My companions in the train car do not seem to mind my silence and it helps that they all sleep as the night wears on. In my pocket, I hold tight to the little note card with the Cullen's post office box address. Once again, I find myself running away from Edward Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Next up, Edward and Julia reconnect when he decides to broaden his menu.


	3. Chapter 2: New York, 1928

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julia and Edward reconnect again in New York, where Edward has traveled alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Big thank yous to my beta validator, Kherisma.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains graphic descriptions of violence.

Calm me down, Bring it round  
To way high off your street  
I can see, Like nothing else  
In me you're better than I wanna be  
"6 Underground" - Sneaker Pimps

The island of Manhattan is a wonderful place for getting lost. When I arrive in New York, I want to forget Chicago and the weeks I spent there. Foolishly, I want most to forget Edward. To forget our last meeting and the angry words we whipped at each other. The awful look he gave me when we spoke about my lust for human blood and the way my insides shriveled at his disgust. The hunger he tried to hide and my disappointment when he lied.

Unable to forget, I lose myself in my new city. As the years pass, I find distractions in the buzz of the vast crowds, the soaring architecture, the art, and the overwhelming energy of the humans around me. I spend time moving amongst them, hiding in plain sight as they go about their lives with bright, blind eyes. I find an endless supply of prey in the dark corners of the city.

I still prefer to hunt in dangerous neighborhoods for my prey. Underneath the shining surface of the city are droves of lost souls. Criminals, drug addicts, and drunks, the broken and hopeless; there are more than enough to keep my thirst at bay without attracting unwanted attention. No matter how hardened or violent they are, their reaction is the same when they realize that I am a monster. Their fear chokes them, and makes them ever more pliable and weak. They beg for mercy that I do not have.

Though I wish it were not true, I think of Edward often and the conversations we had in Chicago. Years ago, I sent my New York post office box number to the Chicago address Edward gave me. I do not check the mailbox and do not know if he has written back. I will be uncomfortable if he has replied, but even more so if he has not.

My favorite hours in New York are those after sunset and before dawn. The streets are dark and I can explore the towers that tumble upward into the sky. When I feel like running, I race along the bridges spanning the East River, enjoying the vibrations of the cabled platforms beneath my feet.

I like to travel on the rooftops of the city, passing quietly over the heads of the humans as they slumber, no doubt dreaming of their short, busy lives. Sometimes I trace the outlines of rooftop gargoyles, my stone fingers gentle on their frozen faces. A smile plays over my lips when I consider how much more I am like the creatures under my hands than like the humans below.

I am perched on my building's roof watching the stars melt into the dawn when I catch the scent of another vampire. My body reacts a second before my brain, pushing me into a defensive posture, my lips tense with a suppressed snarl. Then my brain processes the scent, turning it over on my tongue to savor it and realizing that it is familiar. I recognize honey and a sweet flower ... lilacs. Lilacs are the sweet flower note in his scent. Edward's scent is all around me.

Scanning the rooftops around me, I prick my sensitive ears for signs of him. Half a block away over the rooftops, a pale flash catches my eye. Bending my gaze in that direction, I see him still and white against the doorway to the building's staircase. Edward's golden eyes are trained on me and very bright, while his expression is thoughtful. I sense neither hostility nor anger from him and cannot help but smile when I understand that, once again, Edward wants to talk.

I cross the rooftops toward him with deliberation, moving slightly faster than human pace. While I could be standing on the roof where he waits in an instant, I sense this reunion should be handled with care. Our friendship was new and still fragile when I ran away from Chicago; I understand instinctively that it has cost Edward something to seek me out after I turned my back on him.

Finally, I am standing only a few feet from him. The eight years that have passed since we last spoke curl away like mist while Edward regards me solemnly. The tautness in his mouth and jaw betrays his tension. He is dressed formally, carrying a fedora and wearing a handsome three-piece suit and tie, though his hair tumbles almost into his eyes. He is as lovely as ever.

At last, when I begin to suspect he will simply turn and walk away, Edward's mouth quirks up on one side. He shifts forward so that he is no longer leaning against the wall and takes the few steps to close the distance between us. I tilt my chin up slightly to meet his eyes, which are bright with an expression I do not quite recognize as he looks down at me.

I cannot help the smile that grows on my face. Over the years, I often considered the possibility of seeing Edward again. I thought of the things we might say to one another, how I might explain my abrupt flight from Chicago. Whether or not Edward would be angry with me after the way I acted. Not once, however, did I imagine we would meet again on a rooftop at dawn with the sound of drying laundry gently flapping in the breeze.

"I suppose a simple 'hello' would be a bit anticlimactic," I say lightly. My smile widens when Edward chuckles in agreement.

"That it might, Julia." His voice is as richly musical as I remember.

It is wonderful to hear him laugh again and make him smile. It feels wonderful to stand with my friend once more, even if only for a short time, should that be what we have. For a moment, I want to move closer to Edward, to rest my cheek against his shoulder and curl my arms around his waist. My delight in seeing him is simply profound.

However, I remember where we are and the approaching morning. One look at the sky is enough to tell me that the day will sunny and warm, bringing the humans out in greater numbers; we cannot be outside in the growing daylight for much longer.

Hearing my thoughts, Edward glances skyward before putting his hat on. "Come with me to my house," he says as he offers me his arm, a cheeky grin on his lips. "I'll let you play my piano."

"Resorting to bribery already, Edward?" I chuckle before taking his arm while we run over the heads of the sleeping humans. When we must descend to the street, it is still early enough to elude human eyes before we move in a blur they cannot follow.

Edward's apartment in Midtown is enormous, sprawling over ten rooms, and beautifully furnished. The cool air is fragrant with the spicy smell of amber mixed with Edward's scent. Sheep's Meadow in the park is visible from the living room windows and I watch the fluffy creatures grazing while Edward changes clothes. _He_ _would_ _not_ _risk_ _it_ _..._ _would_ _he?_

"No, I have not been eating the sheep," Edward scolds, his voice playful as he joins me at the window. He has changed his jacket and vest for a grey sweater and I am struck by how much younger he suddenly appears. He looks very much like the sweet seventeen-year-old boy he once was.

"Where do you hunt, then?" I ask, laughing that he has caught my idle thought. "The menagerie in the park would be even more obvious."

"You are absurd," Edward replies with a shake of his head and a chuckle. "I run or drive out of the city to hunt, just as I did in Chicago. There is lots of smaller game in the surrounding area. If I'm in the mood for something bigger, the mountains aren't far at all."

Edward walks across the room to sit at the magnificent piano in the corner, his eyes twinkling as he pulls back the key cover. "Perhaps now I could persuade you to try mountain lion, Julia. Or, perhaps you would like lynx. Maybe even bear."

"Well, Edward," I reply as I join him on the bench. "I must say that the idea of mountain lion or bear is less ... repugnant, than a great smelly sheep." I am treated to another of Edward's chuckles as he begins to play. I do not recognize the delicate piece he is playing and assume it is one of his own compositions.

"You're different," Edward says. I can see that he is appraising me but his eyes are pleased. "You seem much more content."

"You mean I seem less damaged," I reply. Edward grimaces but I am unapologetic. "I've had more time to move past Miranda disappearing. I have been able to put myself back together a bit.

"That is partly thanks to you," I confess. "You started me back on that road in Chicago, even if I wasn't ready for it then."

"I'm glad to hear that, Julia," he replies with a gentle smile.

For all his easy smiles and joking manner, something remains in Edward's expression that I am not yet able to define. The tension I saw in his mouth and jaw earlier lingers, undisguised by our talk. Not even the music flowing from his hands eases the slight stiffness I see in his shoulders. I recognize too that Edward has been speaking only of himself since we entered the apartment. Not once has he mentioned his father, Carlisle, nor have I caught strong traces of his scent here in these rooms.

"Edward, is Carlisle here in New York?" I ask quietly.

"No. Carlisle is in Wisconsin," Edward replies, his eyes on his hands moving fluidly over the piano keys. "We bought a farm there when it came time to leave Chicago."

I find the idea of urbane Carlisle and his son enjoying the pastoral charms of a farmhouse delicious. Memories of the afternoon Edward and I spent lying under an apple tree listening to the gentle lowing of cows bring a smile to my face. However, I still do not understand why Edward is alone here in New York, alone. He and Carlisle do not travel separately and have never lived apart since Edward's change.

The room is bright with midday sun before I speak again. Edward has continued playing as we sit wordlessly side by side, moving from his compositions to Chopin's Ballades, filling the air with beautiful melancholy.

"Will Carlisle be joining you at a later date?" I raise my eyes to Edward's profile as I speak, noting a sadness in his features. "Or... has something happened between you?"

"You haven't read any of my letters." Edward smiles as he meets my eyes. It is not a question, for he has heard my thoughts already, and I acknowledge his statement with a small shrug.

"Carlisle was married recently," Edward continues, his hands becoming still. Turning on the bench, he stands and moves to the windows to drop the sheers against the sun, preventing it from illuminating our skin.

"Married," I repeat in quiet amazement. "That's wonderful, Edward; you must be very happy." Knowing that Carlisle has found someone after nearly two hundred and fifty years of being alone astonishes me and fills me with surprised delight.

"I am very happy for Carlisle," he agrees, turning to lean against the window with a grin. "He and Esme love each other deeply. She has become like a mother to me, as well. It has been wonderful having her with us."

"I look forward to meeting her," I say before realizing I have spoken hastily. Given that I ran away from Edward and Carlisle not very long ago, they may not want me to meet their new coven member. "If you would like me to meet Esme, of course."

Edward chuckles as he rejoins me on the piano bench. His reassuring smile tells me that my wayward behavior is not being held against me. It is enough to know that, while my reckless actions are not forgotten, they are forgiven.

"Don't fret, Julia. You will love Esme and she you." Edward sighs, the sadness returning to his fine features. "Though I cannot say when I will see her or my father again."

"What is it, Edward?" I press him gently, aware that his melancholy is out of character. Before we separated in Chicago, I rarely seen him so pensive; even during our arguments he was vigorous and passionate.

Slowly and without a word, Edward lifts his hand to my face, running one long finger lingeringly over my right eyebrow. His touch is whisper light, his hand at last drifting to rest on the back of my neck.

"You were right, Julia," he says at last, his voice and expression grave. "You were right when you called me out in that abandoned building. When you told me that I was interested in hunting men, you were right."

I hold very still, absorbing Edward's words without surprise. His eyes are burning as he gazes at me, and I know that he is looking at the deep vermillion color of my eyes. It has been over a week since I last hunted and my eyes are growing steadily darker as my thirst increases. In the past, Edward's close study of my eye color might have led to a protracted debate about my eating habits. Given his last words, however, I cannot predict what he will say next.

When we argued that afternoon in Chicago, I saw through Edward's protests against my words as he tried to conceal his intentions. I could see his curiosity about human blood blossoming into something darker and more compelling. I knew then it would be possible to sway him to abandon his abstinence if I was determined enough. Had I not run away that day and given time, I am certain I would have tried.

"I left Carlisle and Esme." Edward's hushed voice seems loud in the silent room. "I need to discover for myself if the lifestyle we've been living is really worthwhile."

"Is that why you've come to see me?" I ask lightly, tilting my head to smile at him. "Shall I present you with my most persuasive arguments supporting the hunting of our natural food source?"

Edward does not smile in response, instead staying silent while we watch each other. The silence in the room becomes heavier, more oppressive, broken only by the soft tick of the clock on the mantelpiece and the traffic sounds from the street below.

With exquisite slowness, the hand on the back of my neck moves over my right shoulder and down my arm, trailing over the short sleeve of my blouse to stop at my elbow. Edward's long fingers cup my elbow gently, as if holding something of great fragility.

"I'm here because you are my friend, Julia," he murmurs. "I'm here because you seem to understand what I want even more than I."

I say nothing as I consider Edward's words. The sunlight in the windows is shading orange when I lift my elbow out of his palm and replace it with my hand. Together, we look down at our joined hands for a moment. When I return my gaze to Edward's, his expression is tense with anticipation.

"Hunt with me, Edward," I say and feel a rush of pleasure when his eyes shine with excitement.

We wait for the night to fall, listening to Edward's records, and talking. My infatuation with New York's architecture and the underground transit system intrigues Edward and his eagerness to explore the tunnels is endearing. He is even more eager to attend dozens of theatrical and musical performances in and around the city but smilingly allows me to insist that we start with the jazz clubs uptown.

Without much coaxing, I agree to play my cello for him again sometime. I have kept up my playing since arriving in the city and begun teaching myself to play guitar. Chastened by my emotional overreaction to my cello in Chicago, I have also become skilled at avoiding becoming too lost in the music.

Edward describes the farm in Wisconsin and I can hear in his voice that he is surprised but pleased to have found it to his liking. He enjoys chasing the horizon in his car on the long, empty roads bordering the fields and pastures. He loves the hushed silence of the empty acres around the farmhouse, sometimes broken only by birdsongs.

Edward tells me that Carlisle met Esme during her human adolescence, only to change her years later as she lay dying in a hospital morgue. He describes how profoundly Carlisle is changed by their love. It is clear that Edward and his adoptive mother have grown very close and their affection for each other is deep. He confesses that it pains him to have left her and Carlisle, but that his need to hunt men simply became too great to ignore.

"Surely Carlisle did not break with you over the humans." My brows draw together in a frown. I cannot begin to imagine gentle Carlisle abandoning Edward; their bond was ironclad in my eyes. I thought it able to withstand even a challenge to one of Carlisle's most fundamental beliefs.

"Not at all," Edward replies, leaning his head against his chair's backrest. His eyes follow me as I tie back the window sheers to allow us a glimpse of the now twilit city. "They were understanding of my need to strike out on my own and will welcome me back if I should choose to return. We write each other every fortnight or so as they don't have a telephone at the farmhouse."

I let my eyes wander over the darkening skyline. "They miss their prodigal son."

"It was hard leaving them. Esme worries, as any mother will," Edward replies. "Carlisle worries too, but in a different fashion. He was pleased that I planned to come to New York. He has always hoped you and I would resume our friendship."

 _That_ _is_ _certainly_ _unexpected._ My confusion is written plainly on my face when I turn to look at Edward. While Carlisle has been unfailing kind to me, I have always been an unrepentant killer of men. I cannot imagine Carlisle wanting his unspoiled, but clearly conflicted, son near me.

"You're wrong," Edward says with a kind smile. "Carlisle likes you very much, despite your differences of opinion. He admires your tenacity, as well; both you and he had to make your own way in the world from early on.

"Carlisle knows you have more experience than I in surviving on your own; if anything, he thinks you can be a good teacher to me."

"Clearly, Carlisle is proof that vampires can go insane," I reply dryly, prompting Edward's laughter to ring out for the first time.

At last, it begins to grow dark enough to conceal our hunting. Edward takes me to the roof and we sit on the building's edge while the dusk darkens into evening.

"Why didn't you read them, Julia?" Edward's voice is so low it melts into the night. "The letters I sent; why didn't you read them?"

"I'm not sure I know the answer to your question," I reply, shrugging as I meet Edward's eyes. "It was difficult for me to realize that you despised my choice to hunt men. We talked about our hunting choices all the time, but that afternoon, there was disgust in your face. After I left, it was simpler; I was here, you were back in Chicago. It was easier to keep that distance by not letting you in again, even in a letter.

"Were there very many letters?" I ask after a moment, not sure I wish to hear his answer.

"Not really. I sent a few when we received your address." Edward's smile is stiff, but his eyes are not angry. "When I didn't hear from you, I wrote less frequently; probably once a year."

"I haven't checked the box since opening it." I feel foolish as I make this admission. "I don't want you to think I threw your letters away, Edward. I wasn't sure you would write; not checking kept that possibility from becoming real."

We sit side by side in silence for a time watching the moon travel across the sky before Edward speaks again. "I didn't know what to think or if we were still friends. It would have been nice to hear from you."

A pang of remorse washes over me at his words, followed by shame. I treated Edward badly when I left Chicago. The trauma I experienced when Miranda disappeared from my life makes my deliberate rejection of his thoughtful overtures seem all the more callous.

"I am sorry, Edward," I murmur. "I regret having been such a poor friend to you."

Edward does not reply. After a moment, I feel his fingers on the backs of my hands, which are clasped in my lap. Meeting his eyes, I am pleased to see that the sadness so often in his face today has gone.

"It's time, Edward," I say, pulling my legs back onto the roof to stand. I hold my hand out to him with a smile. "It's time to hunt."

Once on the street, we walk at a human pace so Edward can more closely see the city I have been describing to him this afternoon. The trip from his building to Hell's Kitchen is brief, but I know from experience that it will be easy to find the kind of food I like to hunt there. I also understand that Edward reveres human life; hunting amongst the population's criminal element will be easier for him.

Edward and I keep to the shadows, watching the humans moving around us. The neighborhood is teeming with life, and every street corner hosts gang members, thieves, and whores. The air is heavy with the tang of liquor being cooked in illegal warehouse breweries. All around us are human voices darkened by violence, greed, and desperation. Edward's face tells me the thoughts he overhears are no less miserable.

During a hunt, there is a moment when a human distinguishes itself from others and becomes prey. Once this happens, I cannot see them as anything else. For me, it is often their intent to harm someone or an actual act of aggression against a weaker human that marks them. I suspect that for Edward it will be the thoughts he overhears that will act as his triggers. With this in mind, I let him take the lead in the hunt.

Edward plucks these thoughts from my head, leveling a wide-eyed stare at me that betrays his unease. His desire to be here hunting at my side is strong, but so are the lessons his father taught him. He is struggling to allow his true nature as a predator to come forward. However, before Edward's nervousness truly interferes with his instinct, the sounds of shouting and weeping reach our ears.

Edward's head snaps toward the source of the commotion, as does mine. Half a block away by a dark alley, a group of men is threatening two small figures. They are a young boy and girl, hardly past childhood and painfully thin, dressed in tattered clothing. The men's shouts and the children's weak protests paint a sordid picture. The boy and his sister have just come off shift at one of the breweries. They were on their way home when the three men cornered them. The thugs plan to extract sexual favors from the girl by force, while her brother struggles to shield her.

One of the men cuffs the boy roughly, knocking him to the ground. The other two men close in on the girl, backing her deeper into the shadows of the alley. Edward's loud snarl echoes my own, and we are at the mouth of the alley in an instant.

One glance at the boy sprawled face down on the sidewalk tells me he has not seen Edward or me. I grasp the collar of the thug standing over the boy with one hand and lift him effortlessly from the ground. His terrified gasp is sweet in my ears.

Inside the alley, Edward is standing behind the two men as they bend to paw at the girl. The rasping breaths of their companion in my grasp alert them to our presence. They turn in shock to see Edward staring at them with eyes that are black with rage and bloodlust. His beautiful face is murderous.

"Run away, little one," I call softly to the girl cowering against the seeping alley wall. I have lowered my prey to stand by me on the pavement, so as not to scare the girl, but keep a deadly hold on him.

"It's all right, little one. Your brother is close by, run home now," I try again, swallowing against the flood of venom that fills my mouth. My bloodlust is steadily becoming overwhelming, but I know the girl and her brother will be safe from Edward and me if they leave the alley.

The girl comes to her senses at last and scrambles to her feet, sobbing and holding her torn garment over her body. She rushes to help her brother to his feet, pulling him away to run toward what I can only hope is safety.

As their footsteps recede, the alley falls quiet, the silence broken only by the ragged breathing of the man in my hands and a trio of furious human heartbeats. The wet thumping is a glorious song in my ears and once more, my lips lift in a smile. In the moments before the kill, humans are wondrous, puzzling creatures, all heat, tenderness, and fragility.

"Just what the hell is going on here," says the largest of the men, sneering at Edward's fine clothes and boyish face. His meaty hands curl into fists and the second man chuckles darkly, rolling up his dirty sleeves as he steps forward.

"You two interrupted our party," the large man continues, turning a pair of piggy eyes on me that fill with contempt before he spits at my feet. "Looks like you're going to have to be our party favor, little miss."

My lips pull back in a snarl as I read their intentions and Edward's sudden laugh is low and utterly menacing. The two men advancing on us freeze in their tracks while the man in my grasp bleats weakly in terror; of the three, he alone recognizes the depth of danger Edward and I present.

"That is no way to speak to a lady, my good man," Edward bites out, his voice deep and terrible. "I must say that you and your friends are making this very easy for me."

Edward steps closer to the two men, backing them slowly toward the alley wall. Their fear is now plain on their faces and their heartbeats are hammering frantically. The man I hold utters another, weaker cry; seeing his comrade's retreat has drained him of any remaining hope of escape.

"Beating children. Raping innocents." Edward's voice grows more lethal as he closes in on the men. "And you were going to kill us, weren't you? Yes, you wanted to murder tonight, even after you had destroyed yet another pure soul.

"These crimes weren't your first. But they will be the last," Edward croons. Then he is on the men in a flash, each hand wrapped around a throat.

Edward pulls the bigger man in first, dipping to press his mouth against the man's neck with a deep growl. The second man struggles vainly to free himself from Edward's iron grip, his eyes rolling in horror and unable to draw breath to scream. A great shudder run through Edward's body as he drinks and a long and sensual moan escapes him.

That sound causes my own thirst to peak. I wrench my eyes away from the sight of Edward with his prey to turn my attention on my own. An expression almost like relief passes over the human's face as I move my mouth to his dirty neck; his terror is so great he cannot bear to be conscious another moment. He sighs gently as my teeth meet his flesh and I wonder what I must look like to him with my delicate clothes and stone hands. Does he see a wrathful angel in my pixie features or a monster? Does he know, as his life rushes to an end, what I am?

His blood hits the fire of thirst in my throat and for those moments, there is nothing else. I am transported, almost weightless, awash with crushing sensations. Every inch of me is humming with lust and relief. If my heart were still capable of beating, it would burst. I want it to go on forever because nothing else makes me feel like this.

When there is no more blood to be had I lay the dead man gently on the ground. My body is flushed with his blood, my nerves singing. One look at Edward tells me he is overwhelmed. He looks with wonder at the two silenced men at his feet before leaning against the alley wall. He buries a hand in his hair and closes his eyes, his unnecessary breaths still coming fast.

Flitting to Edward's side, I take hold of his free hand, which is trembling. He opens his eyes, now crimson and glittering, to fix them on me and I understand instinctively that he is powerfully aroused. Together, we listen to his breathing slow, Edward using the sound to calm him.

"My God," he whispers at last. His voice is thick with emotion. He raises our joined hands to press over his frozen heart, struggling to find words. "My God, Julia! It was almost more that I could bear. I don't... I can't -"

"Everything you can imagine and more." I repeat the words I threw it him in the abandoned building in Chicago, but this time my voice is gentle. "While it lasts, it's everything you want or need."

Edward simply nods in reply, keeping my gaze until I remind him softly of the work we have ahead of us; we must hide the bodies. I show him the foundry on the waterfront that I use after hunting. The vast furnace there burns all day and night, accepting the dead men with a roar; throwing the bodies into the fire is like feeding a dragon.

We return to sit on the roof of Edward's building, watching the sky grow purple with the creeping dawn. The streets below are hushed and still sleepy.

"Is it always like that?" Edward murmurs, his voice grown tender.

When I look at him to answer, his head is bowed and he is having trouble meeting my gaze. I know he is thinking of the moment when he took those men, remembering in vivid detail the sensations that overcame him as they died.

"Yes," I reply honestly. "I have never known the pleasure to lessen. It consumes me, still."

"Is that why you hunt criminals? As penance for the... enjoyment?" Edward meets my eyes at last and I see in them warring emotions of lust, guilt, and joy.

"No, Edward," I shake my head, speaking patiently. "I don't feel guilt for hunting men; I never have."

"But then why not hunt anyone? Regular humans that lead good lives?" Edward's desire to understand brings a smile to my face; his mind is never at rest. "Why not hunt the innocents, too?"

"When I was a little girl, I knew men like those we killed tonight. They brought misery to everyone around them. They thrived on the hopelessness of others." I lean back on my palms as I speak, tilting my head back to allow the moonlight to bathe my face.

"At the time, I was too young to stop those men, too weak. I am no longer that powerless girl. It pleases me to prevent men like that from continuing to bring ruin to others."

Edward absorbs my words in silence before turning his own face toward the moon. I cannot help thinking of the man I killed tonight and what he saw when he looked on our cold and terrible beauty. Edward's soft sigh reminds me that until tonight, his sensitive conscience dictated his life. He must relearn a great many things; and I can only imagine how powerful and awe-inspiring this first hunt has been for him.

After a moment, I bring my feet back up on to the roof and move to kneel behind him. Without a word, I curl my arms around his waist, resting my body gently against his back. Edward's reaction is immediate, his long hands coming to cover mine where they rest over his stomach. He presses back against me lightly, seeking that contact.

"I didn't want to stop, Julia." He sighs, his voice choked with emotion. "I didn't want to stop."

"Then don't," I whisper in reply, laying my cheek between his shoulders.

We watch a blanket of grey clouds slowly cover the sky and just before dawn breaks, a light rain begins to fall. Without exchanging words, Edward and I get to our feet. I slip my hand through the arm he offers me and we take shelter from the rain together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crazy vampire kids.
> 
> Next up, Julia and Edward take their hunt to another East Coast city.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 3: Boston, 1931

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julia and Edward are in Boston, grappling with Edward's pesky conscience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains graphic descriptions of violence.

I am running, I will meet you halfway.  
When I get there will you be waiting for me?  
I am scared, that you don't feel the same  
And after all, how much can I take?  
"Falling Hard" - Crystal Method

When the end of happiness comes, it is sudden, crashing down with the inexorable force of an avalanche. Having endured Miranda's vanishing, I am certain I'll see it coming. I am certain that I will recognize the changes signaling the end, and take necessary steps to distance and protect myself.

In the end, I am blindsided.

Edward and I leave New York on a hunting trip, stalking a pair of brothers responsible for the deaths of several young women. The brothers meet their end in Boston where we interrupt them subjecting a teenage girl to acts of violent darkness. We stay in the city long after tucking the brothers' bodies deep in a flooded granite quarry south of the city; something about this charming town appeals to Edward.

He attends classes at Harvard, quietly enjoying the buzz of young men laboring over their studies while he excels effortlessly. Edward tries to convince me to enroll at Radcliffe, but I prefer my solitary ways and the instruments in our Back Bay house to classes. We spend time roaming the woods outside of the city, often visiting the quiet farmland to the west, and racing over miles of moonlit beaches up and down the rugged coast.

We hunt with cold precision, finding our prey amongst the gangsters and hustlers thronging certain neighborhoods. Edward takes pleasure in prolonging the discovery and pursuit of the humans for as long as possible and prefers that we hunt as a team. We find that my company eases his ambivalence toward hunting men.

I am sitting in the Public Garden on a mild winter afternoon when a young girl passes by. She is in the company of a governess, and her childish form casts a shadow over my legs as she walks past. I realize she is close enough to touch my knee were she to reach out, and glance her way. When my eyes meet hers the abject fear I glimpse in them before she looks away freezes me in my place. After a moment, I stand to follow the child and her governess, keeping my distance to remain unobserved.

The pair enter a handsome brownstone a few streets from the one Edward and I share. I linger on the sidewalk across the street, waiting to understand the fear I saw in the child's eyes. Inside, she greets her mother and some other children, and their conversations reveal the girl's name, Ruby. The household is preparing for dinner and filled with warm, cheerful chatter. Ruby tells the other children fairy stories in a disarmingly tender voice.

Two men approach the building a few hours later, chatting amiably together. One of the men is quite striking and so similar in looks to Ruby, I am certain he is her father. The second man bears a familial resemblance, but hardness in his face prevents him from being truly handsome. Reading his intentions, I understand the girl's fear in a flash and a bolt of fury floods through me. A sound like groaning metal draws my attention to my hands, busily folding the iron gate against which I have been leaning.

A compulsion seizes me to enter Ruby's home and find the creature the children call "uncle." I want to crush his diseased soul between my jaws. The urge is so strong I hear myself grunt with the effort of wrenching myself away. I force myself to walk away from the brownstone and keep my pace human as I make my way home.

When the front door closes behind me, I am a blur of movement, going immediately to the music room for my cello. I want the music to soothe me, to quell the anger I feel toward Ruby's uncle and the girl's circumstances. Chopin's Sonata pours from the cello strings but I am caught off guard by the emotions the notes stir in me. I am always careful to stay ahead of the music lest it carry me away. But tonight I feel reckless. I close my eyes, feeling my throat constrict as I drive myself relentlessly to the edge of control. The notes invade my every movement and thought, bruising me with beauty.

Long, hard hands still mine abruptly, silencing the music. My eyes snap open to meet Edward's as he kneels before me, reaching over the cello to wrap his fingers around my wrists. I realize the sounds in the room are my own ragged, unnecessary gasps. Edward's eyes are wide in his shocked face, no doubt mirroring my own.

"Hush now, Julia," he murmurs, his gentle words meant to calm me.

I close my eyes again, sick with shame that Edward has witnessed my loss of control. In a flash, the cello is gone and he pulls me from my chair into his arms to lean against him. My head is whirling and my body wants desperately to weep but cannot. We sit on the floor of the music room as the sun sets, while Edward soothes me.

"What happened?" he murmurs at last, when I have regained my composure. "I haven't seen you like that since we were in Chicago."

Raising my head from his shoulder, I see concern stamped clearly on his face. His eyes are somber and his lips turn down at the corners.

"I'm sorry." I am contrite, lifting my fingers to stroke the worried furrow between his brows. "I was angry. I shouldn't have let myself get so lost. I found someone to hunt today..." My voice trails off lamely to a sigh.

"Yes, I see the girl," Edward replies. He hears my memories of the child in the park and following her home. "I see her father and uncle as well... ah." Edward's expression creases with revulsion as he hears the intentions I read from the man living amongst children in that brownstone.

"Is it just Ruby, then?" he asks in a voice darkened by disgust. "Or has he moved on to the younger sisters already?"

"It is only the girl, for now." My answer makes Edward's maroon eyes narrows in anger. "He will go to the younger ones in the night soon enough; his appetite is increasing."

We rise together from the floor, Edward's hand gentle between my shoulder blades before I move to return my cello to its case. When I turn back, he is at the window, running one hand over his untidy head while gazing at the river shining softly under the moon.

"You must take him before the week is out." Edward's voice is soft. "Wait any longer and it may be too late; it's best to move quickly."

"He won't be enough for us both," I begin apologetically, but Edward waves his hand dismissively when he turns to face me.

Edward crosses the room to link his arm through mine, his smile reassuring. "I'll hunt earlier in the evening and come back."

The overcast winter skies allow Edward and me to watch Ruby and her sisters over the next few days. The children spend time each morning in the park with the governess, sometimes crossing Charles Street to stroll through the Common for a change of scene. We watch Ruby's uncle come and go from their home, learning his patterns of travel and habits. We discover that he is called Thomas.

On the third day, Edward attends class across the river and I find myself on the same bench where Ruby first caught my eye. Feigning interest in a novel, I listen to the sisters playing and feel Ruby's eyes on me. Eventually, she makes her way toward me. She seats herself on my bench, her coltish legs swinging gently in the air, too short to reach the ground.

"Are you someone special?" She is shy when she speaks, her childish voice high and sweet.

"Not so very special." I smile in return, glancing at her from behind tinted spectacles. Edward and I often wear them to hide our red eyes from the humans.

"I think you are," Ruby persists, her mouth turning up in a tiny grin. "You and your fella, the tall one - I've seen him with you."

"Yes, that man is my friend, Edward. He _is_ rather tall, but don't mention it to him; I don't want him getting a swelled head," I tease.

Closing my book, I clasp it in my lap as I turn to face the child. "What makes you think we're special?"

Her expression is serious as she regards me, her grey eyes searching my face. I have observed that Ruby's smiles are rare, even in the midst of play, and I have not once heard her laugh during the hours I have watched her.

"Well, you don't look like anyone I've ever seen," Ruby says slowly, taking in every inch of my person with her great, sad eyes. "And your fella, err, Edward ... he is as pretty as a girl. Almost prettier than you." Ruby's expression turns apologetic with her last sentence, and I smother a chuckle, nodding at the child to keep her talking.

It is unusual for humans to approach us; an unconscious instinct seems to warn them away. This is especially true of children, who appear to understand us much more clearly. Edward's theory is that adult expectations or rationalizations do not yet shape children; they simply see us for what we are and shy away. Ruby, however, is accustomed to experiencing fear every day and this reality appears to render her immune to the danger I present.

"Gosh, you smell so _good_ , too," she continues. She pauses for a moment to inhale, her face lit with a heartbreakingly lovely smile. "It's like blackberries and fresh cut wood and ... vanilla!"

Edward's scent floods my nose in the next moment, fresh honey and lilacs rolling over me and into Ruby. As he steps up behind the bench, Ruby's eyes close and her nostrils dilate. She inhales deeply, tipping her head back with a little sigh to draw in our combined scents. Edward is smiling gently when I glance at him. His brows furrow slightly in puzzlement over his shaded lenses while he watches the girl's reactions.

"Oh!" Ruby lets out a little squeak when she opens her eyes and realizes the "someone special" she discussed with me is smiling at her. She hops to her feet, eyelids fluttering and shyness dropping over her features again. Fixing another wide-eyed stare on Edward, she mutters a hurried farewell before turning to scurry back to her governess and sisters. Edward chuckles as we watch the children follow their minder out of the park.

"I think you have an admirer." I cannot help teasing Edward as he comes around the bench to sit at my side, taking my right hand between his own. My next words die on my lips when I notice the sadness in his face.

"You must take the uncle soon, Julia," he whispers, running one of his thumbs over the back of my hand. His eyes are stormy when he looks at me. "One of the younger girls has seen Thomas in her bedroom doorway this week during the night."

"Tonight, then," I say, hearing Edward hum in agreement before he stands and gently tugs me to my feet to start the walk back home.

Edward is restless once inside, pacing through the rooms before finally sitting down at the piano. One of his compositions fills the air, a tense piece I hear him working on most often after reading Carlisle and Esme's letters. When the notes from Beethoven's piano and cello sonatas begin to filter out of the piano, I accept his wordless invitation to join him. Edward pauses, pushing the grey sleeves of his sweater up, while I settle the cello against myself.

This kind of unquiet energy has affected Edward often in the last several months. He admits to missing Carlisle and Esme deeply but refuses to see them, preferring to exchange letters and the occasional telephone call. I suspect he is reluctant to turn his crimson eyes on his father, evidence of how dramatically their philosophies have diverged.

When Edward sought me out in New York, he yearned to explore a side of his nature he had previously fought to repress. He embraced his new life with eagerness bordering on fervor, not once expressing regret over his decision. He is masterful when we stalk prey and lethal during the hunt, his thirst seemingly endless. Edward's finely tuned conscience, however, is quiet for only a few moments after the heartbeats of the humans stop. Whether it is the compassion he learned at Carlisle's side or a predisposition toward clemency enhanced by his change, Edward has not shaken his reverence for human life.

I feel remorse when I consider the sadness the Cullens endure in their separation. I feel an awful sense of envy for their connection, too. I know that Carlisle will not turn his back on his son, regardless of the choice Edward has made to hunt men. I have no doubt that Edward is deeply missed and loved by his parents.

Edward's head bows over the final notes of the sonata we have been playing. As the minutes tick silently by, the growing tension forces me from my chair. Placing my cello aside, I join Edward on the piano bench, a place where so many of our conversations occur. He takes my hands in his immediately, the expression on his face so forlorn, I slide closer to rest my ear on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

"Why were you speaking with the girl?" Edward asks after a long moment, his velvet voice pitched low. "I've never seen you talk to a human child before. As a rule, you don't speak to humans unless you plan to kill them."

"Not true," I reply very gently. "I speak to lots of humans I'll never kill. If we live amongst them, it's inevitable we must speak to them without making them into meals."

"Don't be so literal," he scolds. "Stop trying to change the subject, please. Why were you speaking with Ruby? You don't have intimate conversations with humans, Julia, ever."

"She approached me rather than the other way around. I thought it best to act as humanly as possible given that she is just a child. As well as ... what she's enduring with her uncle." Edward stiffens at the reminder of Ruby's pain and I close my eyes.

"Point taken," he concedes.

"But..." I continue, waiting for him to pick up the thread.

"Yes, _but_ , I think there's more to it than that." Edward's voice is lower still in my ear, his head resting against mine.

"For heaven's sake, Edward, don't hold back now." I sigh in exasperation. "By all means, share your insights."

Edward huffs, partly in amusement, and repays my cheek with a nudge of his shoulder. He is quiet for a few moments longer. He moves his right hand from the bundle of fingers in his lap to curl it comfortingly around my waist.

"I think you have feelings for the girl, Julia," he says, his voice solemn. "I think you care more about what happens to Ruby than about stopping her uncle from harming her."

I would laugh if I were not flabbergasted by Edward's words. I manage a dry chuckle before answering, "Edward, that is the most absurd thing I have ever heard you say."

"I don't believe you," Edward replies quietly.

"All right," I counter, keeping my voice even. "Tell me what has happened to make you believe that I am concerned for the welfare of a human."

"Is it possible, Julia, that you have forgotten I am privy to your thoughts?" Edward's tone is light but I can feel the tension returning to his body. "You may not realize it, but trust me when I tell you that you think of Ruby often and with concern for her well being."

Rendered momentarily speechless by Edward's observations, I scan my memory of the last few days. Certainly, I have been considering Ruby's situation with her uncle, and I am eager to resolve the situation before he corrupts her sisters. Thinking of Ruby herself, outside of our plans for her uncle? _Surely not._

Lifting my head from his shoulder, I pull my hands from Edward's and push gently away so we are facing each other. Edward's hand lingers on my waist, but I want to see the emotions in his beautiful eyes as we continue this discussion.

"All right, Edward, for argument's sake, let's suppose I have been thinking of the child. What does it matter?"

"It matters completely," he replies, his tone and expression deeply serious. "Julia, if you have developed feelings for Ruby, it means that you are changing. Perhaps you have the capacity to care for humans. Perhaps you are developing a conscience."

 _Oh, God._ I can only stare at Edward in dismay for a moment. I realize that he has allowed himself to hope I can be like him, like his parents, when I know all too well that such a thing will never happen.

"That is the second most absurd thing I have ever heard you say. Well done, Edward." My words are teasing but my voice has gone tight with sadness.

"Don't, Julia," Edward snaps, startling us both. His eyes are instantly contrite, his voice much gentler when he continues. "Don't dismiss this. What is happening with you should not be mocked."

"Oh, Edward, nothing is happening with me!" I seize Edward's free hand again in mine, pressing it against my still heart. " _Please._ I cannot bear to talk about this. I... will not be able to bear the expression on your face when I disappoint you. And it is inevitable that I will disappoint you; much as I wish that weren't true, I know better."

Edward's expression is torn. He opens his mouth to argue, stopping only when I press my fingers to his lips to still them. I watch as the disappointment I hate clouds his eyes before they reflect sorrow and resignation. He nods finally, and when I move my fingers to caress his cheek, his lips curl in a bitter smile that fills me with misery.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "You're wrong, Edward. And I'm truly sorry if that hurts you."

Edward does not answer, instead using the hand around my waist to pull me toward him again, sighing when my arms steal around him. Twilight dims the light in the room while we sit and the sounds of the city change as the evening blooms. Just before Edward stirs to stand, he murmurs so quietly I am sure he does not mean for me to hear the words. "Don't be sorry; I'm not wrong."

Before we attend to Ruby's uncle, Edward must hunt; the fresh kill will enable him to control his bloodlust when I take Thomas down. I see him out, chuckling when he pulls a cap over his unruly locks. He tosses a glance over his shoulder before walking off and I catch a haunted look under his smile. I find myself unsettled and plagued with the same restlessness that affected Edward earlier, pacing from room to room like a caged animal. Rather than waiting for him to return, I don my coat and hat and make my way toward Ruby's building.

The evening air is bitterly cold, and the sidewalks are nearly bare of pedestrians. I use the shadows of neighboring buildings to conceal myself from the odd passerby; not even the most hawkeyed neighbor perched in a window sees past my utter stillness.

I hear Thomas's footsteps before I see him. When he moves into my eye line, I step out from the shadows and cross the street toward him. My gait is languid and I wear a half smile that catches Thomas's attention immediately. His eyes widen slightly, his steps stuttering ever so slightly when I reach his side of the street and turn to face him. The smile that spreads across his face is infinitely cold and his eyes are devoid of humanity.

Edward and I knew Thomas would be intrigued when he saw me. My face and figure are girlish enough to appeal to the side of him that longs for children. I hold back a smirk when a dark bloom of lust passes over his face as he approaches me. Thomas should be concerned to find a young girl alone on the street at this hour and a bit shocked by my familiar behavior. Instead, he appears to be profoundly excited. Moreover, the intentions I read from him as he stands before me are more than indecent; they are criminal.

"Are you in need of assistance, Miss?" he asks smoothly. His brow wrinkles with feigned concern. "It's far too cold and late for you to be out unaccompanied; your parents will no doubt be worried."

"I'm fine, thank you," I reply softly, allowing both corners of my mouth to turn up while not quite meeting Thomas's gaze. "I've been waiting for you, actually."

"Have you, then?" Thomas grins, taking a step closer. I hear his heartbeat increase slightly in excitement and know that he is powerfully curious. He wants very much to close the distance separating us but is still mindful of appearances. "And why would you be waiting for me?"

I take the five steps needed to stand in front of Thomas before I raise my eyes to meet his and laugh softly. The combined blows of my gaze and scent hit Thomas instantly. His eyes grow wide, his pupils dilating while a gasp escapes him, and his heartbeat thundering in his chest. In fewer than three seconds, he is mine.

"Do I need a reason to want to meet you, Thomas?" I ask, letting my breath rinse any remaining thought from his face.

"N-no," he stammers. He seems not to notice my use of his name before he recovers himself slightly. "Of course not, my dear, no reason needed at all."

"I'm so glad." I beam at him when he offers me his arm. When I slip my hand into the crook of Thomas's elbow, I hear Edward's dark chuckle from the shadows across the street.

Thomas leads me in the direction of the park and I play along cheerfully while Edward follows behind us. We pass two blocks with Thomas unleashing his most charming flattery when I pause on the corner of Berkley Street. Gently, I unlink our arms in order to face him.

"What is it?" Thomas grasps my wrist with just a hint of force, searching my face for an explanation. Though he is still smiling, his eyes have hardened. Were I human, I would be in very grave danger. "Christ, I don't even know your name. What do I call you?"

"I'm Julia," I reply calmly, no longer smiling. "I'm a friend of your niece, Ruby."

"Ruby?" he repeats, completely nonplussed by this information.

"Oh, yes, Ruby," I assure him, locking my eyes on his. "I know what you've put that little girl through every night. And it is time you had a taste of the fear you have been force-feeding her."

Before my words register in Thomas's brain, I pull him into one of the alleys that run behind the brownstones. The darkness is thick in the alley, cut only by a weak lamp attached to one of the nearby buildings. Rats scatter through dirty puddles at the sound of my steps, darting into hiding places. I slam Thomas against the wall of a building, his grunt at the force of the blow giving way to stunned silence. His eyes are rolling in his head as I push him up the wall and his feet dangle a foot above the ground while he chokes on his fear.

Edward appears at my side, his face twisted with an ominous sneer as he regards the man pinioned by my bare hands. Thomas appears to grasp the gravity of his situation, regaining his senses somewhat after the initial shock sunk in. His terrified eyes slide from my face to Edward's and his lips tremble as he tries to speak.

"Don't," Edward growls furiously, his eyes flashing black fire. "Don't try to _explain_ what you've done to that girl, to your _family_ , you diseased monster."

"You must understand," Thomas wheezes, looking to me. Whatever he sees in my face stills his words and further unhinges him with terror.

"I have one regret, Thomas," I purr, lowering him so I can press myself against him in a cruel parody of intimacy. Thomas moans weakly, nearly fainting when I press my cold lips against his ear. "I regret that I cannot stretch out the fear you are feeling longer than this night. You deserve to live with fear every day, as Ruby has, waiting for someone to discover just what kind of animal you are."

Edward steps away, lingering nearby as I crush Thomas's windpipe in my eagerness to destroy him. When the body hits the bottom of the alley, Edward is at my side again. We exchange a long look as the heat of the blood rushes over me. Edward runs his finger gently over my brow as he has done so often during the years we have been traveling and hunting together. When his hand drifts to the back of my neck, I curl the fingers of my right hand around his wrist.

We have sunk the body in the waters of the quarry and returned to the house when I realize Edward has gone strangely quiet, speaking fewer than a dozen words since the scene in the alley. He is no longer restless but instead grows very still, sitting like stone in his chair by the fire in the library. He offers me a gentle smile but no explanation when I approach, and nods when I ask if he would like to be alone.

Edward does not emerge from the library until the next evening. I hear him attend to the coal fire from time to time, and now and then, his soft steps make the circuit of the room. Otherwise, he does not make a sound.

Unable to bear the oppressive silence any longer, I fall into my old New York habit of retreating to the building's roof. I sit with my legs dangling over the building's edge as dusk falls. The sky is clear for the first time in a week, unveiling an endless stretch of violet at the horizon that shades to indigo overhead. Leaning back against my hands, I watch the rising moon, half-full and shining softly as pinpoints of starlight begin to prick through the velvety blue.

Edward's steps are light over the gravel as he approaches, pausing just behind my right shoulder for a moment before he sits beside me at the building's edge. He mimics my pose, leaning back to take in the evening sky unfolding above us. From the corner of my eye, I see his lips rise in a sad smile.

"What is it, Edward?" I finally ask. My voice is low and careful and a wave of self-loathing passes through me when I realize I have been afraid to speak to him.

"I've been doing some thinking," he replies, his equally careful voice sending prickles of dread through me.

I could ask him to explain himself, insist that he tell me what brought about this sudden deep freeze, but I cannot bring myself to say the words. Instead, I look at him full on for the first time since we returned to the house the night before. His eyes are pained and his mouth twists unhappily. The riotous mess on his head tells me the thoughts he has been entertaining have been conflicted. Most significantly, I see that he has decided to leave Boston and return to his parents; that intention is absolutely clear.

"I'm going back to Carlisle and Esme," he says unnecessarily. Edward's eyes fill with a soft plea that I do not understand. "I want to return to their way of life."

"How long have you been thinking about this?" I ask, part of me not wanting to hear his answer.

"On and off for a few months now," he admits. I am not surprised by his words. "I'd hoped that we could go back together. That you would be ready to consider giving up hunting men."

It seems a long time that we watch each other, silently. Confronted with the very words I have been dreading since Edward shut himself in the library, I am emptied of feeling, almost frozen. It is all I can do to muster the energy to turn my head, tearing away from the intensity of Edward's gaze.

"Let's go for a walk," he says abruptly. "Come to the Walden with me." The plea I hear in his lovely voice puts an end to my rigid self-control and wracks me with pain.

"Why?" My voice has dropped lower still. I close my eyes to avoid seeing the expression in his face, feeling myself coming undone by degrees.

Instead of answering, Edward takes my hand before swinging his legs back on to the roof, tugging me gently with him when he stands. Without speaking, we make our way down to the street and sprint west out of the city. I run as swiftly as I ever have, Edward easily keeping pace beside me while the frigid air whips around us. Within ten minutes, we are walking on the frozen shores of the pond.

"When are you leaving, Edward?" We have circled the pond several times when I force myself to speak. The silence of the nighttime woods and water is profound yet infinitely lighter than the silence that has permeated the brownstone over the last day.

"Tomorrow," Edward replies, his voice hushed.

"So soon." The words escape me; followed by a sigh of such poignancy I bow my head in shame.

"Come with me, Julia. Please." Edward stops, taking my hand. His eyes and voice are burning with distress as he pleads with me. "Carlisle and Esme will welcome you as a daughter. You can be part of our family. You can make the change and abstain, I'm certain of it."

"No," I say, slowly shaking my head. Every cell in my body aches with longing to give in. But I can no more surrender than sleep. "I can't do that, Edward."

"Why?" Edward rubs his forehead with his free hand and the misery in his expression carves an ache in my chest.

"Even if I were to go with you now, Edward, a day will come when you'll turn your back on me." My throat is tight with grief, strangling my words. "I've been through that once already with Miranda. I will not put myself through that again."

"You're wrong." He frowns, shaking his head stubbornly. "I would never do that, Julia. We would always be a part of the family."

"I don't think so," I whisper. I cannot help smiling, even as the pain courses through me. Understanding the truth is exquisitely bittersweet. "You and I are not mates, Edward. And when you find your mate -"

"But I may never meet anyone, Julia!" Edward interrupts me sharply, dropping my hand to throw his arms up in frustration. "You're making assumptions that may never be realized!"

"Stop it, Edward!" I bite back, my own temper flaring. "Whether it happens tomorrow or three hundred years from now, a time will come when what we have now will end.

"When you found me in New York, I truly thought I could be with you for a time, and then watch you go. I was wrong. I have to take the steps to change this _now_ , before I get in any deeper."

"So you're going to be the one that leaves, is that it?" Edward's voice is bitter and his beautiful face twists with anger and distress.

"No. You are going to leave, Edward, just as you told me. I'm going to let you go." My voice catches at the end and all of the anger drains out of his expression.

He steps toward me and we stand with our arms around each other, motionless in the frozen night. I allow myself to press my cheek to his shoulder, and close my eyes when I feel Edward's head against mine. The sky has begun to lightening with the approaching dawn when he speaks again.

"I'll miss you," Edward murmurs gently. "Can't you -"

"No," I interrupt sadly. "I can't give myself to a coven that way. This is the only way I know to survive." I gently remove myself from Edward's arms, stepping away from him before I lose my composure.

"I'll miss you," I tell him, my eyes stinging with tears I no longer have.

"Don't vanish on me, Julia," Edward whispers. "You promised me you would never do that again."

"This isn't the best time to remind me of promises, Edward," I mutter dryly, wretchedness rolling through me.

"Julia," he persists, anger flashing across his features. "You swore to me."

"I'll check the New York mailbox," I finally concede with a nod. "I promise; I'll check it."

We exchange one last look before Edward blurs and disappears. I walk for a while longer, rounding the pond twice more before making my way into the woods. I sit under a canopy of evergreens, breathing in the smell of pine needles and snow while I wait to become numb again.

When I return to the house a few days later, Edward's things are gone. There is a card on my cello case with Carlisle's address in Wisconsin and a note in Edward's hand:

_Change your mind, Julia. I miss you._

Absently, I tuck the card in my pocket and spend a long time touching the keys of the piano, not daring to coax notes from them. At some point, I gather my belongings and cello, intending to have the rest sent when I find my next stop.

Before leaving to board the evening train south, I hunt in the red light district to make the journey with so many humans easier. Almost immediately, I come across a working girl being roughly used by a client. The cold flash of a knife pressing on her throat is all it takes to raise a snarl to my lips. Before the terrified girl can blink, I am dragging her attacker into the shadows of an alley a block away. I hear her footsteps receding before I turn my attention to the man in my grasp. I caress his throat with my lips once before choking off his terrified gasp. He is dead and dry in an instant, his head lolling on his shoulders as if in sleep.

For the first time ever, I do not hide evidence of my kill, dropping his crumpled form on the ground and simply walking way. My hands sting with emptiness. For the first time ever, the blood is not enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crazy, moody vampires.
> 
> Next up, the Cullen coven is growing and Edward's got mixed feelings - he'll probably share them with Julia. If she's talking to him, that is.
> 
> Thank you for reading and reviewing, if you leave one. I love to hear from you.


	5. Chapter 4: Seattle, 1948

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward invites Julia to Forks for a little chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Warning:This chapter contains some description of violence.

Like a train passing in the distance  
Like a bird in flight  
I hear you call  
And even though there's no one  
Dark shadows move across the wall  
"For The Love of Big Brother" - Eurythmics

A few days in Seattle are all it takes to understand that the Pacific Northwest is an excellent environment for vampires. Three of the five days I have spent in the city are wet and gloomy, while the remaining two days are merely gloomy, making it easy to walk about in the daylight hours. The cool November air is welcoming after the long trip northwest from Louisiana. I spend my time dodging raindrops, and exploring the clean lines and numerous neighborhoods of the city. In the evenings, I find my gaze drawn in the direction of the silent mountains and forests across the sound.

I am in Washington at Edward's request, though he is unaware that I am so close. It has been over a decade since we inhabited the same state. Yet I put off making the final leg of the journey west to Forks, the tiny city playing host to the Cullen coven.

When we part in Boston, I promise Edward I will not go underground by cutting off all contact. I mean to honor that promise, but four years pass before I collect the letters he has sent since leaving to join his parents. The letters stay in my trunk for another year before I read them. It is then that I discover the family has moved a few times. Edward's letters also bring unexpected news; the Cullens now stand five strong.

I pen a reply to Edward that evening, beginning the process of reestablishing a dialogue. We correspond several times a year for more than a decade, our letters following each other around the country as we move and resettle. Edward's letters share news of his family, as well as his thoughts on books, music, and films, even the human war raging in Europe. Sometimes he sends copies of his compositions or books that he wants to share. My replies are more detached, often simple observations about the things he has written or the city I am living in, perhaps only a change of address. I send him interesting postcards when I find them and occasionally, photographs I have taken with my Leica. Now and then, I write of my hunting experiences, though I am aware my words must make Edward uncomfortable.

Edward's most recent letter is uncharacteristically short and in closing, asks me to consider the possibility of meeting again. Something in the tension of that short note tugs at the corners of my mind, interrupting my thoughts without warning. When Edward's words pop into my head as I hunt, I give up trying to ignore them and buy a train ticket west.

I am standing in the shadows of the big boathouse at Coleman Dock, once more gazing over the sound at the Olympic Mountains. It is my favorite time of evening, the twilight having melted into dusk, while darker clouds smudge the overcast sky, threatening rain. The lights of the passing ferries gleam like jewels against the dark waters. The sounds of human conversation and the warps and woofs of the ferry whistles break the quiet air.

The sound of soft footfalls reaches my ears, shuffling slowly toward me from the right. A delicious salty smell tells me that a human is approaching, and their thrumming heartbeat is loud in my ears. I feel no timidity as I wait for the human to emerge from the side of the boathouse; I am the most deadly thing on this pier. I am filled with curiosity and a vague feeling of excitement, as this is the most unusual thing to have happened to me since arriving in Seattle.

A young man steps into view, slight of frame and inadequately dressed for the damp weather, his head bare. His face is one of ruined beauty, marked with suffering and misery. His eyes are searching somewhat blindly as he walks forward, his eyesight entirely inadequate for piercing the shadows. I can see that his lips are trembling, while his cheeks are damp with recent tears. I hear his breath hitching with more unshed tears and mumbled words that sound like pleas.

"You're here... if I can find you... nothing else can be done," he whispers, his rough voice still beautiful.

The intentions I read from him are breathtaking. He is here seeking me out, understanding that he will die, and welcoming that end.

Typically, I feel a wicked pleasure in revealing my true nature to the humans I hunt, unmasking myself just before they meet their end. I want them to understand, insofar as their limited brains can comprehend, what is happening and what I am. Their wide eyes reflect terror, rage, sometimes even resignation before the light in them is extinguished. Rarely do I see willingness or acceptance of death or an embrace of the end when it finally comes. What, I wonder, will this young man's eyes show me when I bend my lips to his neck?

"I am here," I say quietly, stepping out of the deepest part of the gloom.

Though he has been searching the shadows for me, he startles badly when he catches my movements, and hops back a step. In the next moment, he is sagging to his knees, fresh tears rolling over his cheeks while his soft sobs punch the air. His relief and fear are palpable and his intentions gain definition; he is offering himself up to me.

"Please," he mumbles his enormous eyes fixed on my face, as I close the distance between us. "Please, I've been waiting so long... so long for an end... you must; there is nothing else to be done."

I stand over him, my brows furrowing in puzzlement at this strange creature. I can only imagine that like Edward, he has the ability to hear others' thoughts and followed mine here tonight. He does not quite dare to touch me, his trembling hands hovering over my trouser legs, as if in supplication. While I am certainly thirsty, this human is uncharted territory; I am not used to my prey presenting themselves as lambs for the slaughter.

 _Jesus Christ._ The black irony of this moment does not escape me: I am hesitating killing a human who is not only willing but also eager for death. I wish fiercely that Edward were here to witness my folly, perhaps to laugh at me. The memory of Edward's lovely laughter makes my lips quirk up.

The human's face twists with outrage when he sees my smile, as he believes I am mocking him. With the grace of a feral cat, he leaps at me, a strangled growl on his lips. His teeth snap together nearly against my cheek as I catch him easily, holding him up and away from myself while he struggles furiously.

"Now, my little man," I say, deliberately allowing my breath to wash over his face. "If you promise to behave, I will set you down. I'd like a little chat first, if you don't mind."

"No, no talking," he says with a weak gasp. My scent and breath have stunned him slightly, but he persists in his efforts to reach me. "Nothing more can be done, you must understand!"

"Tell me why then." I sigh. Something in me wants to comprehend what has brought this pathetic man to me tonight. "Why should I kill you, human?"

The man's tears begin again, his features crumpling as he sobs. "I can't stop myself," he croaks at last, his wet eyes desperate. "I'll kill them, you see."

Intentions blossom before me with chilling clarity and I understand his torment in a flash. Beyond death at my hands, this man's sole desire is to butcher young women. The compulsion gains strength in him with every waking moment, surpassing even nourishment and rest.

"How many have there been?" I ask quietly, drawing him lower and closer to me. Venom floods my mouth, filming my teeth and tongue.

His frenzy drains away as I lock my gaze on his and his breathing slows. A languor drifts over his limbs, making his mouth slack as he stares deep into eyes that I know are black with lust. He is as pliable as a child's doll and his expression is one of profound relief. At last, something recognizes him as the monster he has battled to hide.

"None," he mumbles, nodding slowly in answer to my question. "But there will be. There will be so many. Once I begin, so many will die."

With a tenderness that surprises me, I wrap him in my cold embrace and take a moment to wipe the tears from his face. His breath catches in his throat when my hard fingers delicately brush his hot skin, and his eyes slide closed. He sighs like an exhausted child when his head falls onto my shoulder.

"Sleep, human; they're safe from you," I murmur before pressing my lips to his throat.

Rain is falling by the time I climb out of the sound after hiding the human's body. The drops make it easy to conceal my wet clothes when I return to my hotel. I run a bath and wash the salt from my limbs and hair, reading over some of Edward's compositions while steam fills the air.

I am alone on the deck of the ferry, as it navigates the choppy waters of another drizzly dawn. I make my way west from the dock at Bremerton and slip over the perimeter of Olympic National Park by mid-morning. Following a route parallel to Highway 101 around the mountains, I eventually veer deeper into the park itself. I follow a river that cuts through thickly forested ridges, and race east through the lush growth. I cannot help marveling at the rugged beauty and absolute stillness of the place. Only the sounds of wildlife, running water, and my light, flashing feet pierce the hush. After so many years living in cities, the utter absence of sound is wonderfully heavy in my ears.

I know I am closing in on the Cullen's territory when I cross a vampire's scent- leather mixed with lavender and faint notes of apple. I find other trails quickly, crossing notes of pear and hyacinth that I recognize as Carlisle's amongst other unfamiliar scents. I surmise the whole family travels this way, perhaps while hunting, and then I find Edward's scent, his honey and lilac notes strong and familiar.

I hear a piano when the terrain has leveled out, meadows occasionally puncturing the ancient tree growth. The notes from Poulenc's Napoli Suite are achingly lovely in the deep quiet of the forest, almost haunting. Slowing my steps, I walk at a near human pace, listening to Edward work his way through the three movements in the suite. To keep my thoughts neutral, I transcribe the notes in my head as he plays. He is well into the third movement when the notes pause for the briefest moment, making me chuckle; Edward has heard my thoughts.

I want to see Edward alone this first time, away from the family his father has lovingly built. Walking back the way I came, I turn my back on the place the Cullens call home. My steps pick up speed, until the trees and moss blur into smudges of green; I know Edward will follow soon.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a tumble of grey stones nestled amongst a copse of towering trees. Stopping, I realize it is an ancient stone bench, partially covered by the creeping moss and underbrush. I pull the beret from my head to tuck in my jacket pocket and run my hands over what was once the bench's seatback, tracing the now crumbling mortar between the stones with my fingers. Whoever constructed the bench is long gone, and left it behind for the forest to reabsorb.

The heady aroma of Edward's scent floods my nose and throat. I glance back over my shoulder to find him slowly emerging from behind a massive conifer. Edward's expression is neutral, his mouth unsmiling, but his eyes are vivid and very aware. He is casually dressed in tweed trousers with a button-down shirt under a deep blue sweater, and his hatless head is in a state of chaos. He is glorious, even absent a smile.

My eyes narrow and I feel an impish grin spread over my lips just before I tear off into the trees again, darting around the old trunks. I hear Edward's feet behind me immediately, closing the gap between us. In a flash, he is beside me, his face relaxed before creasing in a happy smile that I cannot help returning. I run faster, egging him on, and a laugh bubbles from my throat as we hurtle over boulders and fallen trees. We approach a gorge, and Edward soars over the distance between the banks without dropping a step as I follow close behind. He is laughing as he lands on the other side, his voice like music in my ears before he shoots away, though he allows me to catch up right away. These small bursts of speed are playful, encouraging me to keep pace. We both know this race is purely academic; Edward can outstrip my speed with very little effort.

The crash of rushing water catches my ears as we race along the river. The roaring sound grows steadily until we come to stand at the edge of a waterfall. The white water thunders over the edge into a steep ravine, the impact sending a plume of fine mist into the air. Edward's smile is wide and his eyes dance when we look at each other. Joy lights his beautiful face, and the sight filling me with happiness. It has been such a long time since I have known such simple delight.

"Sol Duc Falls." Edward's voice is clear against the noise of the falls.

"Beautiful," I reply, a gentle smile playing on my lips. Edward is close enough that I take his left hand in my right, pressing his fingers gently. "This is a beautiful place."

Edward turns to face me, his right hand rising to trace the line of my jaw with delicious slowness before drifting to my left shoulder. Gently dropping my hand, he draws me into a tender embrace. His arms encircle my shoulders while my temple falls against his collarbone, and my arms curve around his waist. Edward presses his ear against my hair while we stand stock still with the falls thundering at our feet.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" Edward murmurs, and I hear the smile in his voice.

"When have I ever been one to observe the niceties of the well-bred immortal?" I tease. Pulling back slightly to look up at him, I say lightly, "You invited me, Edward, or don't you remember?"

Edward chuckles as he rubs my shoulders with his long fingers. "You're quite right, and I'm glad you're here, unannounced or not."

The sun peers out from behind a cloud at that moment, making its first appearance since I have been in Washington. Golden rays pour over us, igniting the prisms hidden in our skin and making us glitter like crystal. I cannot stop my laughter as I gaze at Edward; it has been years since I have seen our kind lit by sunlight, and the sight fills me with utter delight. Edward's eyes are shining as he watches me, and a broad smile plays on his lips.

"You must feel so free here," I say wonderingly, looking from Edward to the forest around us, marveling at the emerald tint of the light as it filters through the trees.

"I do," he replies, letting go of my shoulders and stepping back as I release his waist. He offers me his hand, the gesture both familiar and bittersweet. His voice is warm when I slip my hand in his, saying, "We all do; my family, I mean. It's a beautiful place, truly."

"Show me?" I give Edward's hand a little tug of impatience and he rewards me with a chuckle.

Edward nods and the grin he gives me is carefree and filled with affection. I read his intention to dart away just as his eyes widen playfully, and his laugh rings out before the trees swallow it. His pleasure is dizzying and I close my eyes for a moment, even as our feet begin to fly over the earth.

We run deeper into the park, following the river for a time and eventually climbing as the terrain becomes more mountainous. We race effortlessly out of the cloud cover and back into the sunlight. We stop finally on the shore of a lake of exceptional beauty, with gleaming crystal blue water. The air is incredibly clean and scented with wild grasses. I smell fir, hemlock, and cedar.

"Edward," I turn to him with a wry grin, my eyes dazzled by the refracted rainbows of the sun on our skin. "I'm almost tempted to try life outside of a city if every day is as gorgeous as this one has been."

Edward's smile is wide as he takes my hand, leading me to sit in a smooth place in the grass.

"There's so much you haven't seen yet, Julia," he says keenly, his eyes bright. "Rainforest, the mountain peaks, glaciers; it's quite a place for an explorer like you."

"It sounds as though you've been doing your own fair share of exploring," I reply.

Edward nods, chuckling. "Indeed. I picked up the habit from a friend."

Edward's expression becomes serious as we watch each other, and I feel my own smile slipping away. Now that he is sitting beside me, the depth to which I have missed seeing him over the last decade crashes over me. Playing music, nighttime rambles and races, long strategy sessions and hunts, discussions that lasted for days, even our arguments. My solitude since Boston seems even more singular in comparison with just the few hours we have had today.

"It has been the same for me, Julia," he whispers, his mouth quirking up crookedly in a sad smile. "I've missed you."

Taking my hand from his, I reach to stroke Edward's cheek, letting my fingers run along the length of his elegant neck to rest on his shoulder. His right hand crosses his chest to cover my hand, rubbing my fingers fondly with his own, before I gently bring my hand back to rest beside me in the grass.

"Surely your family is the best company," I reply, furrowing my brow in confusion. "I know how much you missed Carlisle and Esme. Sharing in their -"

"Love?" Edward offers when I hesitate. He looks out over the lake as he speaks, smiling softly. "Yes, they are very good company. I had no idea how much I had missed them until we were together again. Being back with them has been incredibly fulfilling."

"I'm glad," I tell him quietly, meeting the question in his eyes when he turns to look at me. "It pained me that you were unable to be with them. Even when I understood that you had to choose between us."

Edward sighs, shaking his head, and I know he is considering my insistence to remain unattached to a coven. For the moment, he remains silent, for which I am grateful. I do not wish to spend the time I have with Edward rehashing our old argument. We sink back onto the turf, made lazy with sun, and our shoulders rub now and then as we watch the sky's slow changes while the hours pass.

We talk about the compositions Edward has been writing and the music we have been playing. Edward is impressed that I am working to add the piano to my repertoire, confessing that his all-consuming passion for the instrument hinders him from pursuing others. We discuss Edward's new interest in the poems of Cummings and my efforts at photography, and talk about the places where we have lived since parting.

Edward stiffens in the middle of a description of the family's home in Appalachia, rising up on his elbows to frown over the lake. I sit up as well and follow his gaze, realizing that we are no longer alone. On the far shore, I see her, tall and lithe with a head full of blonde hair rippling away from her lovely face. A mammoth male stands by her side, his black hair glinting blue in the bright light. His handsome face is stony, but his eyes are lively.

"That would be the fair Rosalie, I imagine." Her haughty features and graceful posture are exactly as Edward described in his letters. I can read the disdain clearly written on her face, as well as the bitterness in her intentions.

"Yes, and that's her husband, Emmett," Edward replies, his voice still rigid. He is clearly irritated with his siblings for intruding.

"She's lovely, Edward," I tell him, instantly infuriated by the wistful tone in my voice.

"Yes, very much so," Edward agrees carefully, before I feel his eyes on me. "She is one of the most beautiful vampires any of us has ever seen."

"And, I daresay, absolutely wrong for you in every way imaginable," I glance from the blonde beauty in the distance to Edward, my smile mischievous.

Edward throws his head back to laugh. "Wrong in _more_ ways than can be imagined, I'm afraid."

A low hiss reaches my ears and we both turn to see Rosalie glaring balefully in our direction before whirling to run westward. Emmett flashes an apologetic look at Edward and then looks at me, his lips curling at the edges before he follows his mate.

"Ah, that wasn't very kind of me," I murmur regretfully. Though I have never desired to meet Edward's other family, this is certainly not how I imagined my first encounter with his sister. "I've offended her. I'm sorry, Edward."

"Rosalie has been offended by my very existence since the first moment she woke to this life," Edward replies with a rueful chuckle. Noticing my discomfiture, he places his hand on my wrist, smiling reassuringly. "Truly, we have never seen eye to eye. Rosalie is consistently irritated with me and I confess that I do very little to make her happy."

"Was there never a possibility that you could be her mate?" I ask, keeping my voice carefully neutral.

"None at all," Edward replies without hesitation, and I detect a hint of regret in his voice. "I did consider trying to make it a possibility. Rosalie and I discussed trying several times."

I say nothing in return, watching with amusement as he recalls Carlisle's misguided attempt to generate romance for his son by presenting him with a ready-made mate. Edward's hand lifts to rub the back of his neck, a grin crossing his face.

"I even considered kissing her, thinking perhaps that would create some kind of spark," he says, his eyes twinkling when they meet mine. "But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not that Rosalie would have allowed me to get that close."

"Poor Carlisle." I sigh, sinking back onto the turf. "He must have been terribly disappointed. He finally finds a creature perfectly matched for his beautiful son -"

"And we can hardly bear the sight of one another," Edward finishes, laughing as he lies down next to me. "It's true, you know; in the beginning Carlisle simply could not understand why the two of us mixed as well as oil and vinegar.

"He was and is equally confused by our friendship," he continues, gesturing between the pair of us with his hand. His voice has sobered now and when our eyes meet, his expression is thoughtful. "I'm almost sure Carlisle is at the end of his patience with my... temperamental ways."

"You _are_ terribly difficult, you know," I scold. I am determined to keep our conversation light. "Dragging home bereft nomads, engaging in rebellion halfway across the country, thwarting matchmaking attempts at every turn; your father must be on tenterhooks waiting to see what you'll do next."

Edward's growl is loud in my ears and I shoot to my feet, laughter falling from my lips. He chases me west as the sky grows rosy, passing me quickly with a gleeful shout. He slows enough to run at my side, leading me slightly south. The terrain changes dramatically as we drop below the cloud cover once more. The air is misty and luxuriously overgrown, like a dimly lit fairyland. Moss covers nearly every surface, and the ancient spruce and maples vault silently over us in the verdant gloom.

"Fantastic," I murmur, slowing my steps to gaze around me in wonder. When my eyes meet Edward's, I see understanding in them; he recognizes that there is much to treasure in this place.

"The rainforest," he says softly, coming to my side. He pulls my beret from my pocket and carefully draws it over my hair, ignoring his own rapidly dampening head. "I knew you would like it."

We walk for a time as the light fades, Edward telling me about his hunting experiences here in Washington. I smile at his stories of stalking and hunting cougars and other big cats, laughing outright when he describes Emmett sporting with bears. Edward's favorite haunts outside of the rainforest are the mountains; he and Emmett have recently begun exploring the glaciers.

"Not the coast?" I ask, puzzled at this omission; Edward has always relished the sensation of racing next to water for long stretches.

"Yes, there are some wonderful beaches a bit further south, reaching into Oregon," Edward agrees, but I sense a reluctance in his voice that I cannot fathom. Edward's smile does not quite reach his eyes when I arch my brow at him.

"And if I were to run on the beach," I begin, drawing him out slowly.

"Some local beaches are restricted," Edward replies swiftly. His voice is tight and nearly severe. "They are restricted to _our_ kind."

His tone softens when he sees I am paying close attention. "I can show you which beaches are open. There are boundaries you must avoid when hunting, as well. Though I cannot tell you why the boundaries have been set, I must insist you heed my words, Julia. The restrictions allow my family to continue living here. "

Edward describes the approved hunting areas his family respects while we pursue game into the evening. I watch with fascination as he stalks a herd of elk, bursting from a hunting crouch to run swiftly among them. Effortlessly, he takes down a great bull, draining it in seconds. At last, I understand the visceral appeal of hunting animals, the wordless focusing of instinct and reflex. The flush of the bull's blood on his skin is gorgeous, and his eyes tawny and glowing. Still, when Edward suggests I try my hand, I cannot stop wrinkling my nose in distaste, making him laugh.

"Are the animals satisfying, Edward?" I ask curiously. "I can't imagine they are in any way _delicious_ , but do they fill your thirst?"

"After a fashion," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand again. We are walking east again, climbing once more to meet the sunrise at one of the glaciers Edward fancies. "The cats and bears are more satisfying than the deer herds. None of them tastes very nice, but they are enough to keep me from eating the good townspeople of Forks."

"I wondered," I say, pausing while I gather my thoughts. I want so much to understand why he and his family deny themselves the most basic of our pleasures. "Do you still desire human blood, Edward?"

"Nearly all the time." He sighs with a dry laugh, making me smile as I shake my head, no closer to understanding than ever.

We sit side by side on a bare stretch of stone while an icy breeze swirls around us, and the rising sun sets the blue ice of the glacier ablaze. Edward turns to me, the longing in his eyes catching my attention. So gently, he lifts his left hand to the nape of my neck, slipping his fingers under my hair for a moment. His hand glides over my left shoulder and down my arm, before coming to a stop at my elbow, resting on my hip.

"Why don't you stay, Julia? Here, with us," he says. The velvet of his low voice is warm in my ears.

"Edward, you know I can't do that," I reply with as much gentleness as I can muster. "Is that why you asked me here? You want to make me a Cullen?"

"In part, yes," he admits sheepishly. I cannot bring myself to feel irritated when I see the earnest expression on his face, sighing softly as he continues.

"I know how you feel about covens. But this is a family; it would be different for you than it was with Miranda." Edward's face and tone are careful, his arm drawing me a bit closer to his side in apology when I stiffen at the mention of my maker's name.

"It's not who I am," I reply after a moment. I relax against him, resting my ear on his shoulder, turning my eyes back to the ice. I take his right hand, pressing his long fingers between mine. "I believe you when you tell me your family is different. But that doesn't make them any more right for me."

The sun is high above us in the sky and the air warm when Edward asks, "Do you not grow weary of being alone?

"It's what I've known for a long time," I murmur. I watch the sun on our skin as I continue, the crystalline shimmer almost rivaling the glacier. "We're different, you and I. You thrive in the company of others, Edward. I need such company much, much less."

"You haven't answered my question, Julia," he replies, frowning when I lift my head to meet his eyes. "Do you not grow weary of being alone?"

"Sometimes, yes." My admission is not difficult to make, nor does Edward look terribly surprised to hear it. The sadness filtering over his features pains me, prompting me to continue. "It's not so much that I grow weary of being alone. More truthfully, I grow weary of missing the company of someone I care for."

"Inviting you into the coven isn't the only reason I asked you to come here," Edward says softly. "I just missed you. Even knowing the odds weren't in my favor, I wanted to see you again."

It is deep evening when we near the Cullen's home again, walking slowly as if to put off our inevitable parting. Less than two days in Edward's company has resurrected so many emotions I spent years fighting after leaving Boston; I must leave soon to maintain my composure. Edward has grown increasingly quiet, as the sun has sunk in the sky, his expression somber as he listens to my thoughts of departure. He has not asked me to stay again, but his conflicted emotions are written in the tension of his neck and shoulders.

We are passing the ruined stone bench in the forest when he stops, keeping my hand in his. I turn to face him, stepping closer to take his free hand in mine. Impulsively, I lean forward to press a kiss to Edward's cheek, and hear his breath stop for a moment in surprise. He drops my hands to wrap his arms around me, a sigh on his lips as I return his embrace.

"Julia, in all the years since Carlisle made me, I have not met a single being with whom I enjoy spending time as much as I do you." His voice is rough with unhappiness as he rests his chin on my shoulder.

"I feel the same way," I reply quietly.

"That has to count for something," he exclaims, drawing back to look at me. His face is mournful but I see a gleam of frustration in his eyes as well.

"It means a great deal, Edward," I tell him, feeling weighed down with grief. "But it doesn't change anything."

"I don't believe that. It is so _easy_ to be with you." Edward's frustration grows as he speaks. "Why can't that be -"

"Yes," I interrupt him gently. "It is incredibly easy between us. I am so tempted to stay here and chase that feeling. But you don't love me, Edward, not really."

"But I do, Julia," he protests. Edward steps away to pace by the old stone bench, his brow furrowed in consternation, his lips downturned. "You mean so very much to me, you must know that."

"I do know, Edward; I'm like a sister to you. I understand that very well." My impulse to soothe him in the face of my overwhelming sadness infuriates me. I wrap my arms around myself in an effort to stand my ground.

"No, you're _wrong,_ " he replies, stopping his pacing to scorch me with his eyes. "I have a sister already and let me assure you that my feelings for Rosalie, are entirely different from my feelings for you. You are my friend, are you not? My very good friend?"

"Oh, Edward. Of course I am, very much so; as you are mine." This time I do not stop myself from going to him and stroking his cheeks with the backs of my fingers. "But I need more than that. And we both know that's all it can ever be for you."

"Isn't it enough that we are good for each other and make one another happy?" he murmurs. His fingers curl around my wrists, drawing my hands toward him to rest on his chest.

"For you, perhaps, and only while you are still alone," I tell him sadly.

"And for you?" Edward steps closer, his lips ghosting just above the bridge of my nose. "Is it enough for you, Julia?"

My words catch in my throat when I shake my head at him slowly. For a moment, I lean into Edward, his soft lips pressing against my forehead with aching sweetness. Then I step away, gently unwinding his fingers from my wrists. I turn and walk a short distance, putting space between us before turning back to face Edward.

 _I will miss you._ Edward sighs as he hears my thought. Neither of us can bring ourselves to smile, though I nod my head when I see that he is rubbing his forehead in exasperation. He slides both hands into his pockets and finally returns the nod, yearning clear in his face and golden eyes.

I am grateful for the night as I speed back toward Seattle. The still blackness of the woods around me soothes my tangled thoughts and begins to dull the knife-edge of pain. I know I should cut ties with Edward for good, for my own peace of mind. I know with equal certainty that I am utterly powerless to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They just can't get it right, eh?
> 
> Next time, Julia's branching out and Edward just may have something to say about that.
> 
> Thank you for reading and reviewing, if you leave one. I love hearing from you.


	6. Chapter 5: San Francisco, 1987

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward pays Julia a visit and learns that our girl has been up to some mischief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains graphic descriptions of violence.

_Why so green  
And lonely  
Heaven sent you  
To me  
We are accidents waiting  
Waiting to happen_  
"There There" - Radiohead

The air in the club is thick with cigarette smoke generated by crowds of humans. Blood pulses beneath their fragile skins, and their heartbeats are audible to my ears over the thunderous house beats; it is hard for me to say which music I find sweeter. I am mindful of the delicate men and women around me as I dance, moving delicately lest I carelessly mash muscle or splinter bone. The humans hover around me in droves, enraptured by my scent and alien grace.

After a decade in this city, my time in San Francisco is running short. It is here I have learned to mix with the humans, working amongst them while concealing my identity. I play music most evenings, keeping my motions subtly human as my fingers run over my bass guitar. I roam the city's neighborhoods, sometimes bringing my camera to capture images both gritty and glamorous. I climb the cables of the Golden Gate and Bay Bridges to watch the city as it teems with activity. It is here, with Edward's assistance, that I have at last learned how to hunt animals in the extensive parks and game reserve lands flanking the city. I have disciplined myself over the years, gradually curbing my appetite for human blood. When I do hunt my natural prey, I am more meticulous than ever in the selection and disposal of quarry.

A pale hand curls around my waist, the palm and fingers laying flat on my belly and drawing me backward against a gracefully muscled body. I allow my head to fall back against the shoulder offered to me as lips press against my neck, trailing so softly toward my ear.

"Missed me?" His voice is low in my ear, teasing.

"As if my answer matters," I reply with a dark chuckle, letting my hands fall against the strong thighs pressing behind me.

"You wound me, silly girl," he hisses softly as my hands begin a slow climb upward.

"You're impervious to injury, physical or otherwise," I purr before turning swiftly in his embrace, my lips coming to hover just below his. The space between us is buzzing with tension when his hands rise from my waist, gliding up, and over my ribcage. They pause on the outside of my breasts for a moment before cupping the tender, heavy flesh, wringing a sigh from my lips.

"That's my girl," he murmurs before our lips meet.

For a few moments, we are lips moving against each other and hands grasping flesh. The music in the club and the bodies moving around us become murky as the kiss deepens. He leans in to me, hands pulling me against him while he captures my lower lip between his, letting me feel his teeth. I angle my head to get closer, opening my mouth on his and feel his quick intake of breath when my tongue slides against his. _Daniel... so delicious._

The humans press in closer, drawn by our palpable energy, and the mixing of our scents. The air is heavy with vanilla and sandalwood, bergamot and anise. It is only a matter of time before one of the humans strays too close, emboldened and made foolish by lust and wanting to touch one of us. With this in mind, I break the kiss, pulling back to look into Daniel's shining crimson eyes. Like me, he is dressed in jeans and a shirt, topped with a black leather jacket. His dark hair is threaded with silver, contrasting beautifully with a pair of outrageously charming dimples. A smile creeps across my face as Daniel mock pouts and allows me to lead him toward a dark corner near the main bar.

"Always so serious, Julia," he needles me playfully. Draping his arm over my shoulders, he lowers his lips to nibble at my throat and we move with the tide of warm bodies.

"One of us has to use their head," I scoff. "You know perfectly well this club is too small for that kind of display."

Daniel says nothing, instead leaning in to caress the underside of my jaw with his lips and tongue. I indulge his impulse, enjoying the sensations with a lazy smile before placing my palm on his shoulder to create some distance between us.

"Behave yourself," I scold, watching his handsome face crease in a scowl. Daniel has little respect for the laws of our kind and no desire to remain inconspicuous in any aspect of his life. To defuse his sulking, I change the subject. "How long are you in town?"

"I'm not in town, strictly speaking," he replies with a shrug. "I'm just passing through on my way south. I'll be on the road in two hours."

"What are you doing here, then?" I arch an eyebrow at him. Daniel often runs with a small coven he has known for over forty years, and roams the Americas with the trio for long stretches of time.

"I've been showing you what I'd _like_ to be doing here for the past ten minutes, Julia, to no avail," Daniel purrs. He lowers his head to look at me from under his graceful brows as he speaks. "But I'm thirsty as well; I thought you'd like to hunt with me?"

I run my index finger over the graceful bridge of his nose, my lips itching to cover his. "You really are a delightfully tempting creature. But I'm afraid I must decline."

Daniel eyes me impatiently, making a frustrated sound in his throat. Grasping my hand, he inclines his head toward the exit, gently leading the way to the door. The evening air is like a cool kiss on my skin after the humid heat of the club. We melt into the shadows of the alley by the door, and Daniel drops my hand as we run through the city streets, moving too fast for human eyes to track.

In moments, we are standing on a vast dock in the naval shipyard at Hunters Point, the cranes towering silently above us. Daniel is silent at first, ignoring my inquisitive gaze, and turning his eyes on the black waters of the bay. When he does meet my eyes, I see he is smiling unhappily.

"Julia, hunt with me tonight," he says, his tone uneasy.

"I've told you, Daniel, no." I am shaking my head when he leans forward abruptly to curl his fingers around my right wrist, surprising me.

"Why not? Because you've had your fill of _deer_?" Daniel's nose wrinkles in distaste. "Do you know I hardly recognized your eyes tonight? You're beginning to _look_ like themfor Christ's sake."

I do not reply to Daniel's acidic words, instead fixing my eyes on the Bay Bridge in the distance. I know very well that he is referring to the Cullens and their hunting habits. Like many of our kind, Daniel finds their refusal to drink human blood bizarre and even offensive.

"I don't know what is in your head, Julia," he continues, stepping forward to wind his arms around my waist. His voice is no less sharp despite his soft touch. "You know it doesn't matter how yellow those beautiful eyes of yours become; t _hey_ are not right for you. _He_ is not right for you."

I stiffen with outrage, leveling a scorching glare at him. My voice is low and dangerous as I hiss, "Daniel, you are pushing the boundaries of our friendship far beyond where I am willing to go."

He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply in an effort to marshal his emotions. His arms wind more tightly around me, keeping me close though I want nothing more than to walk away from him.

"Keep me company, then." Daniel's voice is tinged with regret. When I do not respond, he dips his head to press his lips under the neck of my blouse, against my collarbone. "I shouldn't have provoked you. That was clumsy of me."

His eyes are bright with unspoken apologies when he raises them to mine and I relent, nodding to signal that I will let his comments go. I rely on cues of this kind when dealing with Daniel's mercurial moods because I am unable to read his intentions; they appear half-formed and indistinct, as if being viewed through heavily smudged glass. Upon meeting him, this anomaly unsettled me, and I watched Daniel more closely than anyone ever before. Quickly, however, my inability to read his intentions became one of my favorite things about Daniel. I found I could truly relax with him.

"You know that's impossible," I reply, brushing my lips against his. "There are limits to my restraint, Daniel. Surely you understand that."

"Actually, I don't understand at all," he retorts with a laugh, teasing me. "The last thing I can claim to be guilty of is practicing this holy restraint you speak of. If the impulse to join me in a little human throat crushing strikes you, why on earth would you restrain yourself?"

Daniel smothers my exasperated groan by covering my mouth with his own. Our mouths quickly become feverish and I feel a pang of regret that our time tonight is so limited. I break the kiss when Daniel sweeps my legs out from under me with one arm, laughing as he carries me purposefully up the dock.

"Unless you plan to put off your travels, you'd do well to put me down," I murmur playfully, allowing myself the small pleasure of resting my face in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

"As the lady wishes," Daniel sighs, but I hear the smile in his voice as he sets my feet on the ground. He keeps one arm slung over my shoulders as we exit the deserted shipyard, removing it only to race me back to the club we left a short time ago.

"I'll be back through in a month or two," he says as we stand near the club entrance. His eyes are soft as he holds my gaze. He raises his fingers to run over my hairline, letting them come to rest under my left ear.

"I should still be here," I reply with a smile. "I have your answering service if I've moved on by then."

"Right," he says, turning to go but then pausing. Daniel turns back to press his lips to my ear, fingers still cradling my neck as he whispers playfully, "Good behavior isn't all it's cracked up to be, Julia." With a dark chuckle, he is gone.

Though the night has hardly begun, I no longer want to drench myself in music and the luscious, salty smell of humans. It takes only minutes to cross the city, my pace increasing as I approach the Golden Gate. I race over the bridge, deserted of pedestrians at this hour, and swiftly climb the thick cable toward the north tower. I settle myself easily against the steel just short of the top, the wind swirling around me. A fog rolls in, gradually shrouding the deck and traffic from view.

My thoughts turn to Edward, as they often do. Our letters and phone calls have continued to crisscross the country over the decades, bringing the details of our lives to each other. Edward shares news of his family, now numbering seven with the addition of two new members, including a sister with whom he has become very close. He tells me about the university degrees he pursues in the towns and cities where the family lives, and sends me cassette tapes filled with the gorgeous music he composes. He admits to yearning for the kind of passion Carlisle feels toward his work and patients. I share my own music, sending Edward demo tapes of the bands I work with and the occasional recording of my solitary endeavors at my cello. My letters include photographs I have taken of delicate human moments and the local music scenes I frequent.

We visit one another several times a year, often meeting in remote areas away from human eyes. The visits are filled with the intense enjoyment we experience together but they are always brief. I am still unable to bear more than a day or two with Edward before the compulsion to protect myself by leaving becomes overwhelming. Edward no longer asks me to join the Cullen coven, knowing his words and my refusals cause us both pain. The expression I sometimes catch in his eyes tells me he wishes I would choose differently.

The moon and stars are still bright when the dark sky begins shading to grey in the east. Climbing over the top of the tower, I descend the cables on the other side, my feet hitting the beach within moments. I run for a time, the sound of the Pacific rushing against the sand and rocks soothing in my ears. The cloudless sky is the color of steel when I pause on a rocky beach lined with cliffs. Humans are stirring in their dwellings a mile or two in the distance. I have little time before the sun rises and I must seek shelter in the nearby redwood forest.

As I turn to make my way inland, the sound of rapid footfalls catches my ears. My eyes narrow, looking back the way I came, fighting the defensive posture my body is trying to assume. Then the familiar scent of honey and lilac fills my nose, rolling over my tongue for a moment before Edward is standing a few feet away. He is dressed in black wool trousers and a white t-shirt under a steel grey sweater, with a dark trench coat hanging gracefully on his lean frame. His hair is windblown from sprinting and his eyes are shining with good humor. He is breathtaking.

"Busy night, Julia?" Edward flashes me a lopsided smile that I cannot help but return.

"Had I known you were coming, I would have cut down on the mileage," I reply before stepping forward to close the gap between us.

Edward's arms are tender around my shoulders when we embrace, drawing me close while I wind my arms around his waist, allowing my cheek to rest on his chest. Edward's jaw is against my temple when he abruptly stiffens, freezing against me for a long moment. I close my eyes, knowing he smells the unfamiliar notes of bergamot and anise all over me. _God damn it, Daniel._

"Checking up on your favorite nomad?" I ask lightly, feeling Edward relax slightly.

"In a manner of speaking," he replies quietly after clearing his throat. "I was in Los Angeles and drove up before heading back east. Of course, I didn't expect to have to track you all over San Francisco and then out here."

"Consider yourself fortunate I didn't feel the urge to visit Alcatraz last night," I reply, pulling back enough to smile up at him while he laughs in agreement.

"We'd better find that forest I heard you thinking about," Edward says, glancing at the orange hue in the eastern sky. Holding hands, we dart over the cliff trails inland, speedily covering the five miles to the state park.

The forest is cool and welcoming, with enormous redwoods and oaks stretching silently skyward. Thick ferns and other underbrush carpet the floor while the mosses blanketing tree trunks and rocks remind me of vast forest surrounding the Cullen home in Washington. The Olympic National Park and Forest have become a refuge in my mind, a place I return to often, if only in my memories.

"I miss it, too, "Edward says softly, breaking my reverie. He smiles in apology for eavesdropping on my thoughts once more. "I'm not sure what it is about that place, but there's a sense of _home_ there. I'm drawn to it, though we haven't stayed there for more than a day or two since we left over thirty years ago."

"You'll go back, won't you?" I ask, letting go of Edward's hand to run my hands over the thick trunk of a young tree we pass. "The whole coven will return to Forks some day?"

"Some time, yes," he replies, frowning slightly at my use of the word _coven_ ; the Cullens prefer the term _family_. "Perhaps in another twenty years. We are simply waiting for the human memory of the Cullens to fade sufficiently."

We pass the morning walking and climbing amongst the ancient trees. Gurgling streams and our voices are the only sounds piercing the hush. I cannot help smiling at the juxtaposition of Edward's sophisticated garments against the primeval forest around us; my motorcycle jacket and jeans are no less out of place.

"How long have you been in town?" I ask him as we pause by a waterfall, the tumbling water and resulting pool dappled with sunlight filtering through the canopy above.

Edward does not reply straight away, his brow furrowing as he sorts out his thoughts. He is walking thoughtfully along the edge of the pool, his skin throwing rainbows when it catches the light. Seeing that he does intend to answer me, I wait silently, keeping my thoughts neutral by running notes from Schickele's Vermillion Suite through my head.

"I arrived in San Francisco last night," Edward says at last, his expression impassive. "I followed your scent from your apartment to the nightclub."

"I don't understand," I reply with a frown. "Why did I not see you until this morning?"

"I arrived at the club in time to see you leaving." He is speaking with deliberation, and I realize when he speaks again that he is working to control his tone. "Who is the vampire I saw you with, Julia?"

"His name is Daniel," I say quietly. "But I'd wager you know his name from my thoughts earlier. In fact, unless I am very much mistaken, it's safe to say you know his name from my thoughts last night."

Edward does not respond, instead continuing to watch me silently. His face is smooth but his lips tighten, betraying his discomfort. I trace his steps along the edge of the pool until we are standing a foot apart, and tilt my head back to meet his golden eyes.

"Did you follow us to the shipyard, Edward?" My voice is low as I ask the question, filled with the same tension I feel in my body. "Were you watching me with Daniel?"

"Not the whole time," he replies calmly, his expression cool. "I walked back a few blocks from the shipyard until the two of you came back out."

"And then spent the rest of the evening following me without alerting me of your presence?" I can only stare at Edward, my lips slightly parted in disbelief. Anger flashes over me in a white heat, and I grind my teeth together, fighting to keep the rising torrent of accusations from exploding on my lips. It is not until Edward flashes in front of me that I realize I have turned to walk away from him. His hands are firm on my shoulders, preventing me from continuing past him. When my eyes snap up to Edward's face, I see that the impassive façade has gone, replaced by his own anger.

"Get out of my way, Edward," I say, my hands tightening into fists and a growl building in my chest.

"No. You owe me an explanation," Edward replies tightly, standing his ground even in the face of my wrath.

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" Edward's self-righteous expression and tone fuel my anger further. "Have you lost your mind? Are you actually going to stand there and demand that I explain something that is no business of yours after you've just admitted to surveilling me?"

"Yes, Julia. Explain to me why you tell me about all things great and small in your life," he hisses, his eyes narrow and burning. "Why you've spent nearly sixty years calling yourself my friend, and yet _somehow_ fail to mention something as important as taking a mate."

"Daniel is not my mate," I say flatly. Another surge of anger pulses through me when Edward huffs derisively at my words. "I should not have to repeat myself, Edward, but I will this once. Daniel is _not_ my mate."

"Do you really expect me to believe that, Julia?" Edward's hand rises to torture his hair as he stares at me disbelievingly. "I saw you with him; I _saw_ the way you were with each other."

"Fine; you saw us and intuited that we share a physical connection." With effort, I manage to keep my voice down though I am seething with hostility. "Have you heard a single thought from me today about having a mate? Whatever I've shared with you over the years, Edward, and whatever we are to each other, wouldn't you hear my thoughts about a mate if I indeed had one?"

Edward pauses for a beat before continuing mulishly, "If he's not your mate then what is he to you?"

"Daniel is a friend," I retort. "And, as we've already stated, we share a physical connection. It's not deep or lasting; we are two friends enjoying each other's company."

"You mean it's just sex." Edward's face darkens with disgust. Instantly, I feel myself transported back to the abandoned building in Chicago, and the loathing in Edward's face and voice for my choices burns me once more. _Jesus Christ._

"Yes, it's sex, Edward," I reply quietly, my defensiveness draining out of me. "We have sex, we hunt together, we listen to bands, we dance. We enjoy ourselves and each other, no more, no less."

"My God, Julia, in your efforts to disguise yourself amongst the humans, was it really necessary to mimic their more vulgar behaviors?" Edward's ranting grows increasingly louder as he throws his hands up in frustration before they fall to rest on the back of his neck. "You're telling me that you willingly participate in empty, meaningless acts with someone who means little to you. How can you be so cavalier? How can you act so thoughtlessly?"

"Don't you _dare_ judge me." My voice is lower still, a near whisper. I am horrified to feel myself trembling, to hear the tremors creeping into my voice. "What would you have me do? Would you have me stay forever frozen? To maintain a state of permanent limbo, waiting to see if something, _anything_ will ever change between you and me?"

Edward's face pales as my words register. His arms drop heavily to his sides. I cross my arms to grip my sides in an effort to control my shaking body.

"I'm not a fool, Edward. I will not be treated as one," I say evenly, working hard to remain calm. "I refuse to be caught in a game of eternal waiting."

"This has never been a game, Julia." Edward says, clearly shocked. He walks forward to take my hands in his, his eyes pleading for my understanding. "You cannot think that I have ever taken our friendship lightly; I will not allow you to think that.

"I am sorry; sorrier than you can ever know that things aren't different between us. Examples of love in my siblings and my parents surround me every day. I watch them when I can bear to, and I see how complete they are in their love, how fulfilled they are by each other." His voice is sorrowful as he speaks, words filled with a longing I understand. "Yet I remain alone, unmoved by this one thing that continues to elude me."

"When I look at you, I _should_ feel something deeper," he continues in a tight voice. I cannot stop myself from stroking his cheek. "Were I not in some way hobbled, I could be happy with you, Julia, and make you happy. That I cannot haunts me in so many ways. I wonder if this is not punishment for losing my soul all those years ago; perhaps I will always be on the outside looking in."

"I can't believe that," I tell him softly. I meet the intensity of his gaze calmly, and try to will away the traces of desperation in his eyes. "Neither of us chose this life; we were brought into it without our consent. Why should we suffer any form of condemnation for something so completely beyond our control?

"As for your soul..." I pause, frowning at him before I continue. "You are not lost, Edward. Neither of us is lost. We have eternity to find our way through this world, whichever path we choose. The challenge is to not lose yourself. I struggle against that very thing more often than I should."

Edward heaves a great sigh, reaching to bring my hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss of almost unbearable sweetness on my fingers. My eyes sting with tears I cannot shed, forcing me to hang my head low in an effort to control my snarled emotions. Without a word, Edward enfolds me in his arms, each of us holding the other tightly. The sun is well past the midpoint in the sky before either of us speaks, a cool fog creeping through the trees.

"Do you love him?" Edward's lips move against my hair, the words spoken in the softest whisper.

"No, I don't," I reply without hesitation or bitterness. "Not in any romantic way, of that I'm fairly certain."

"Doesn't that bother you, Julia?" Edward's voice is kind. I know he is trying to understand my actions rather than judge them.

"Not particularly."

"May I ask why?"

"I'd rather you didn't, actually. You won't like what I have to say."

Edward's arms loosen, pushing me back softly to look at me with an expression like dread in his own. "Please, tell me why?"

"You're so young, Edward; even though we are close in age, you're somehow much more innocent. Forgive me for forgetting that," I tell him, sighing as I push on. "When our kind falls in love, it is not something that can be undone. It is as irrevocable as any other aspect of our existence. As luck would have it, I cannot undo my feelings for you, Edward."

To my dismay, Edward looks shaken by my words, as I thought he might. His face creases with anguish and I shake my head at his murmured apologies, rubbing his shoulders in an effort to comfort him.

"Can you forgive me?" I see resignation in his eyes; he thinks I will refuse.

"There's nothing to forgive, Edward," I assure him. "You cannot help the way you feel any more than I. It's not a matter of forgiveness as much as it is one of acceptance."

"That is so terribly one-sided," he groans. His pained expression prompts me to stroke the soft hair over his right ear.

"Believe me when I tell you that you are wrong," I say tenderly, trying my best to comfort him. "I will not lie to you and tell you it was easy for me when I realized how far my feelings for you go. There have been times when I thought it best to sever our friendship-"

"Julia," he says mournfully, regret washing over his lovely face.

"But I have chosen not to because you are important to me," I say. "It is worth it to me to struggle from time to time, rather than forgo seeing you altogether. We _are_ friends, Edward; that much I know."

We turn back toward the city after the sun sets. Edward is quiet as the miles speed past us, his pensive expression telling me he is punishing himself for hurting me. We slow as we near the Golden Gate and I see that it is still early enough in the evening for pedestrian traffic on the bridge.

"Take a walk with me." I take Edward's hand in mine and playfully urge him forward.

Edward's eyes are sad but he manages to give me a smile, dropping my hand to offer me his arm as he has done so many times over the years. I slip my fingers into the crook of his elbow and we set off over the bridge. The mild weather has brought out droves of humans around whom we carefully weave, the heady smell of their blood perfuming the air. Halfway across the bridge, Edward steers me toward the railing where we stand for a time watching the boats on the bay.

"Would it be all right if I met you later tonight?" Edward asks, edging closer to curl his right arm around my waist. His ear comes to rest on the crown of my head. "I need some time to think."

"Of course," I reply, gently taking his free hand in both of mine. "I can wait at the apartment, if you like."

"I'll find you," he chuckles fondly, making me smile. "Between your scent and the running commentary in your head, it won't be hard."

His words make me laugh aloud and I feel lighter when Edward joins me, the unearthly sound of our mirth drawing many human eyes. I press a gentle kiss to his cheek before turning to finish my walk across the bridge. The early hour and crowded sidewalks make me reluctant to run; humans seem to be more observant on nights like this, requiring some caution on my part. Instead, I ramble easily through the neighborhoods on the way to my apartment in North Beach.

I am passing a tiny park a few blocks from the Chinese Hospital when a noise reaches my ear, a cross between a curse and a whimper. It is not difficult to see them through the gloom: the woman sprawled on a concrete table set by a muraled wall, a man hovering over her. His intentions are even easier to see, his plans to rape the shivering girl flowering darkly before my eyes.

My feet take me into the park with light steps I do not bother to conceal, leading me to stand a half dozen feet from the pair. I know the man has heard me when he freezes in the act of ripping the girl's shirt open with one hand, the fingers of his other hand pressed cruelly against her lips. Slowly, he turns his head to turn disbelieving eyes on me. His face goes empty with surprise when I smile widely at him.

"Let the lady up," I tell him lightly, a thrill of lust shooting through me when his cheeks flush red with anger. _God help me._

"Get the fuck out of here, lady, or you're next," he snarls at me, bristling with hostility.

A soft laugh bubbles over my lips as I take another step closer, arching an eyebrow at his gaping face. "I'll say it one more time. Let... her... up."

He steps back from the girl, his eyes never leaving mine, and allows her to scramble to her feet. She is gone in an instant, pulling the torn blouse over herself, and her teary breaths sounding soft in my ears. I take another step closer as the man turns to face me fully. His expression is now a mixture of fear and awe, all traces of anger gone.

"What the fuck are you?" he whispers as I step forward once more, only a foot between us.

"I'm every awful thing you've ever imagined," I tell him softly, my mouth filling with venom. Though I am not thirsty and do not need to kill this foolish creature, his fate was sealed the moment I entered the park.

"No. You're beautiful. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he replies slowly. His eyes have gone soft and stupid as he gazes at me.

I wind my arms around his shoulders in an iron embrace. His mouth falls open in surprise when he feels the hardness of my limbs. Impulsively, I lean forward to press my cold lips against his, relishing the heat in them and the groan of desire he cannot suppress.

"How fitting then that I should be the last thing you'll ever see," I whisper, my lips forming the words against his.

The overwhelming smell of lilac and honey assaults me an instant before two hard hands seize my shoulders. _Edward._

Taken by surprise, my body forces itself into a defensive crouch the human spins helplessly out of my arms to sprawl on the ground. His hands brace for the impact, skidding across the concrete, and the tender flesh of his palms tearing like gossamer. The smell of human blood blankets the air immediately with a thick, salty tang.

Even through the red haze dropping over my vision, I sense that Edward's bloodlust has overcome him utterly. He lunges for the human in a flash, his eyes black with thirst, his teeth bared and glistening with venom. Reacting instinctively, I throw myself in front of the human to block Edward's path.

"Stop," I say with a long snarl. My hands are on Edward's chest as I struggle to hold him back.

Growling deeply, Edward shoves me violently backward. I hear the snap of breaking bones as my boots connect with the fallen man's spine, cracking it like dry twigs. His final gurgling breath is a muffled scream of agony. I have barely registered the human's death before I am grasping at Edward's shoulders again, trying to register past his madness.

With a roar, he sends me hurtling against the mural with a deafening crunch. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs in a startled grunt. Edward is on me in a moment and pressing me hard against the bricks with his body. Guttural snarls roll out of him and he pulls down roughly on my wrists. The shoulder seams of my jacket and blouse burst open as Edward's bared teeth brush my throat. An awful sound like slow, metallic tearing fills my ears just as searing pain sets my right shoulder on fire. In a panic, I struggle against him to glance at my shoulder and see it is coming apart from my body. Before I process what I have seen, a seam of pain runs through my left shoulder, staggering me. Edward is tearing me limb from limb.

"Edward," I rasp out, pulling air into my lungs with a great gasp. "Christ, Edward, stop!"

The agony in my voice makes it past the snarling beast. Sanity returns to Edward's face, mixing with abject horror when his eyes register the damage he has inflicted on my body. Releasing me with a cry of dismay, he all but sweeps me into his arms before racing out of the park. He moves so fast the streets and buildings around us are smudges in the night. In moments, we are at my apartment and Edward uses the spare key tucked behind the fire extinguisher to unlock the door.

"Put me down," I protest as he carries me inside, slamming the door behind us so hard it trembles in the frame. "Edward, you're overreacting!"

"I'm so sorry, Julia," he chokes out, placing me gently on the living room sofa.

"Its fine," I reassure him, gesturing impatiently with my head for him to sit. "Just help me, please."

Together, we inspect the damaged right shoulder, Edward hissing at the sight of the fissure in the white skin. Without hesitation, he presses the edges closed with his hands before bending forward to run his tongue over the area. His venom seals the rupture instantly, leaving only a shining white seam as evidence of the injury. After a quick examination of the left shoulder reveals no visible damage, Edward helps me to my feet so that I can change my torn clothes.

When I return, pulling the hem of a black tunic over my hips, Edward is slumped forward on the sofa with his head in his hands, the picture of misery. I approach him carefully, sitting beside him to run my hands softly over the back of his head, feeling his hair soft against my fingers. I am distressed to note that Daniel's scent is strong in the apartment, though Edward has made no mention of it.

"Edward," I begin, wanting desperately to comfort him. "Please stop doing this to yourself."

"How can you say that to me?" His voice is anguished. "I could have maimed you so easily, Julia. I could have _killed_ you."

"Yes," I agree. My hands move from his hair to curl around his waist while I rest my temple against his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles. "I should not have interfered when the blood was spilled; that was incredibly foolish. However, you neither maimed nor killed me. You stopped yourself before-"

"I was so close," Edward cuts me off, his voice breaking. "I was ready to go for your throat..." His whisper trails off as we consider the enormity of what he had been prepared to do.

"It's been a long time since you've hunted men," I reply at last. I feel strangely emptied, my limbs heavy after the ordeal we have experienced. "You haven't been around human blood in that way for decades, Edward; the way you reacted was completely understandable."

We should return to the park in Chinatown to retrieve the body, but I cannot bring myself to move yet. If the human is found, the local law enforcement officers will simply attribute his death to gang activity, another unsolved homicide among thousands.

I close my eyes in an effort to recharge. Edward leans back against the sofa, pulling me against his chest with extreme care, his lips soft against my hairline. We are silent for a time, Edward's hands moving gently over my shoulders and back, tenderly rubbing the seam in my right shoulder. The sounds of traffic and human voices die out as the night deepens, and the pale semicircle of moon passes over the dark sky while the hours pass.

"I must never forget myself like that again," he says, his voice low and serious.

I say nothing in reply. I know Edward will labor slavishly to achieve what is, for our kind, a near impossible goal, even at the expense of his own happiness. That I have unwittingly played a part in this grim scenario fills me with remorse.

We rise when the dawn paints the sky grey. The sound of raindrops spattering against the windows catches my ear and I turn to smile at Edward before we pick up our coats. We retrieve and hide the body deep in the massive game refuge south of the city, dodging the raindrops as we run.

We spend the day walking around the city, climbing and descending the hilly streets while we talk. When the businesses open, we spend hours combing through music stores for media and sheet music. Edward's mood is somber, and our missteps from the night before clearly weigh on him. At midday, we board the ferry for Alcatraz, trailing the guided tour through the old prison. I sense Edward is coming out of his dark mood when he extracts a promise from me to return here after dark for a less conventional tour.

Back on the mainland, the drizzle lifts and we find a relatively dry spot in the Botanical Garden to pass the hours lazily. Edward entertains me with stories of his family while I tell him about the bands I have been working with. He is particularly amused by the care I take to remain inconspicuous while engaging in blatantly conspicuous behavior.

Dusk finds us on the beach on the western side of the city, the Pacific stretching out endlessly to meet the darkening sky. My band is playing tonight and Edward is eager to watch the show before he leaves to return home. As we walk toward the stairs leading to the street, I feel his eyes on me.

"Last night, in the park," he says quietly, his steps stopping just before the stairs. "Why did you stop me?"

"I couldn't let you undo the years of discipline you've endured." My voice is impassive as I answer, though I feel anything but.

"I don't understand," Edward admits ruefully, reaching out to capture my hand. "I would have thought-"

"That I would want you to fail?" I am glad that Edward has the decency to look sheepish at his presumption. "I don't take pleasure in things that cause my friends grief."

I pause to sort my thoughts and words before I can continue. Edward's brow furrows when he sees me hesitating, and he rubs my right shoulder soothingly with his free hand.

"When you decided to leave Boston, you told me something that's resonated over the years." My voice is quiet as I speak, but steady. "You told me I was changing. That I was developing a conscience."

"I remember," Edward replies, offering me a small smile.

"You were right, Edward," I say, watching his eyes widen in surprise at my words. "That's another reason I stopped you last night. I couldn't let you... corrupt yourself after you've worked so hard to be good."

Edward is stunned, his eyes burning gold as he stares at me, his hands moving to entwine our fingers together. "I don't know what to say," he replies at last, his voice hushed with emotion. "Thank you doesn't seem remotely adequate."

"I don't expect gratitude," I reply, quirking a smile at him. "But remember this conversation the next time you feel the need to go on about lost souls. Maybe there's hope yet for monsters like us."

After a moment, Edward leans forward to press a gentle kiss on my cheekbone, his soft lips moving to ghost against my eyelids before he straightens again. We watch each other for a few moments longer, before I break the spell with a chuckle. Just as Edward hears my next thought, I make a dash for the city, hearing his laugh ring out behind me as we race into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think it was Edward getting handsy with Julia in that club? Gotcha. The Daniel character is an homage of sorts to Anne Rice's character of the same name in "Interview With The Vampire" and "Queen of the Damned".
> 
> Also, 1987 is the year Bella Swan was born in the lovely hamlet of Forks, WA. Hai there, Bella.
> 
> Next up... well, Edward will tell Julia he's finally fallen in love... with Bella. That should be interesting.
> 
> Thank you for reading and reviewing, if you leave one. I love hearing from you.


	7. Chapter 6: Los Angeles, 2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward confesses to Julia that he's fallen in love. With Bella.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains some description of violence.

No gain with no pain  
My scars are deeper than you think  
Tie me, try me  
One more time before I sink  
"Bloodstain" - UNKLE

It is wonderfully easy to hide in plain sight in Los Angeles. The more extreme and odd elements of humanity flock there, seeking fame or oblivion. I enjoy additional latitude as a musician. For the first time in my existence, very little about my appearance defies human explanation. My white skin and strange ochre eyes are attributed to make up and contact lenses, and my after dark habits are written off to a consistent schedule of late night shows. The unsettling vampiric beauty written on my features is not entirely out of place here. I am just another unusual face amongst the surgically enhanced humans roving the streets like exotic animals. Not even the occasional appearance of my crimson eye color causes much of a stir; one can buy any color eye here with very little effort.

Neon tints the twilit sky above West Hollywood, and the languid voices of humans echo through the hot air. I walk easily among the crowds of fragile creatures with my guitar case slung over my shoulder, drawing glances that are curious or admiring but not apprehensive. Only the most observant humans here sense that I am more than a young girl on the way to band practice. I am approaching the club's stage door when a tiny pinging sound from my pocket alerts me of a new text message. I push through the heavy door and am met with the expectant hush of an off hours nightclub waiting to be filled with patrons. I am the first to arrive, but know my band mates will be following close behind me. Fashioning a makeshift pillow from my guitar case, I stretch out on the low stage to wait, pulling the phone from my jeans pocket to see a message from Edward.

_**Alice says the band will be signed this week. You're a musical Midas.** _

_"_ Damnit." I cover my face with my left arm, burying my nose in the crook of my elbow with a groan. After a moment, I come out of hiding to tap out a reply to Edward.

_**I'm a musical vagrant. Thank Alice for me.** _

While the girls in the band will be ecstatic, a contract is not good news for me. I have will have no choice but to quit immediately. The one drawback to working in the music business is the prospect of becoming famous, something I am unable to embrace. The irony of my predicament does not escape me. The internet makes it more difficult to avoid the limelight as show reviews, photographs, and videos circulate the globe with a few clicks. The last band I played with vaulted onto the national scene overnight when photos and videos of a particularly good performance went viral. I quit over the protests of my band mates, but my heightened profile was noted; I received direct communication from Volterra before the end of the week.

Another ping pulls my attention back to my phone and a new message from Edward.

_**Come to Forks? I need to talk.** _

I frown as I stare at the message. It is unusual for Edward to extend a formal request to see me, and even more so to summon me rather than simply showing up. The sound of my band mates on the sidewalk outside reaches my ears as I reply.

_**I'll leave tonight after the show. Meet at the stone bench.** _

The stage door crashes shut and the sounds of biker boots and girlish laughter drift in from the street. I meet the amused gazes of the three human girls I make music with nearly every evening, and offer them a smile as I sit up and pull my case off the stage. I will miss playing with them.

I drive up the coast overnight, approaching Forks by early afternoon. Leaving the car on a deserted logging road near the tiny airport, I duck into the trees to travel the rest of the way on foot. The light is verdant and misty with the rain that is filtering through the canopy. Enormous ferns curl around the massive cedars and hemlocks, and the air is filled with the musky smell of vegetation and rich, dark soil.

I know the Cullen home is close by when I cross the family's scent trails. Skirting the edges of property, I glimpse a corner of the silent, white structure in the deep gloom of the massive cedars that stand sentinel. I move deeper into the park, running parallel to the river until I spot the pile of grey stones half buried under the copse of spruce. The rain tapers off as I wait for Edward to join me after discarding his human disguise for the day. The afternoon wanes into early evening. The patter of drops from the trees and the muted calls of birds are the only sounds to break the forest's silence. The overwhelming stillness of the place is penetrating, acting as a balm to the tension in my body and thoughts.

It is dusk when I hear rapid footfalls approaching, Edward's scent washing through the air as he steps into sight. He is wearing his student's façade of dark jeans and a simple navy pullover, and his hair is messy in the way of the teenagers that surround him daily. Edward's smile is wide and happy, and I detect a vibrant energy in his movements. I return his grin, wondering what his classmates make of his vivid and inhuman beauty.

Sitting beside me on the bench, Edward draws me close, his arms curving around my shoulders as a happy chuckle rumbles through him. He presses his cheek to my temple when I rest my head on his shoulder and I thread my arms around his waist.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," Edward says, his voice warm. "We were hunting and just got back."

"I don't mind," I reply before drawing back to look at him with a grin. We settle back against the worn stones, each keeping an arm around the other, our shoulders touching. "I've been spending some quality time doing absolutely nothing."

"I see; getting your fill of silence," he teases. "It's strange, Julia, that for all the glorious noise you make with your music, you seem to value quiet above everything else."

"I hear my thoughts most clearly when it's quiet." I shrug. "Of course, given that my thoughts can be very tangled indeed, silence isn't always the best thing."

Edward's face becomes sympathetic, his mouth turning down in a soft frown. "I'm sorry about the band. I know you were enjoying your time playing with those girls. You were great together."

I let out a small sigh, grateful he understands without my having to explain. "I quit last night before leaving to come here. They were unhappy but quite decent about it. Despite their worries, they'll find a replacement right away and do well. All of the elements for success are already present; all that remains is for the spark to be lit."

"Success is getting to be quite a habit with you. You'll have paparazzi following you soon," he says. Edward's voice is light, but I understand the meaning behind them.

"First, you are ridiculous. Second, I haven't heard anything from Volterra," I assure him. "I excused myself in time to avoid that, thanks to you and Alice. I am thinking of moving east to create some space between the music scene and myself. I'll be able to find studio work in New York or Boston that will allow me to play without drawing attention to myself."

"Clever girl," Edward agrees before playfully knocking his shoulder against mine. "One major drawback to this plan, of course, is that we'll be too far away from one another for spontaneous visits such as these."

"Yes, we have become a bit spoiled being so close." I nod, laughing fondly. "I take it, then, that you're all committed to this high school ruse. What happens when you and Alice matriculate? Off to the University of Washington with weekend visits home, before moving on again?"

"That was one plan, yes," Edward says, his voice tightening ever so slightly. "Things are rather up in the air at the moment, however. In the very appropriate words of Burns, 'the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray'."

"How so?" I ask, noting the tension in his jaw. "I would think you could easily pursue graduate degrees for another several years without raising so much as an eyebrow."

Edward face darkens slightly, and I can see that he is weighing his words with great care. "It's not the particulars of any one plan that require revision. Something entirely unexpected has made it difficult to plan at all, actually."

Faint prickles of unease spread through my chest, a response to his rapid mood change. Until only a few minutes ago, he had been radiant. ""Edward? Is everyone all right?"

"Yes, of course," he assures me with a grateful smile, taking my free hand in his to rub my knuckles gently. "Everyone is very well."

"What is it?" I persist delicately, my quiet tone bringing Edward's eyes to mine, his expression strangely hesitant.

After a moment, Edward gently drops my hand and withdraws to stand, pacing slowly in front of me. He runs his hands through his hair before dropping them to grip the back of his neck. My concern mounts as I wait for him to resume speaking. When he pauses to look at me, the change in his face stops me cold; Edward's face is shining with a fierce joy. The intentions blooming around him stun me to the core of my being.

"Who is she?" I ask, my lips forming the words through my shock.

For a moment, Edward's face is blank with surprise. Recovering quickly, he darts back to crouch by my knees, capturing my cold hands in his. Looking up at me, I see the elation in his eyes warring with a desperate intensity.

"Julia," he murmurs, the fingers of his right hand coming up to trace my cheekbone with aching tenderness. "I hardly know how to say this. I didn't want to keep this from you, of all people, and I knew I had to speak to you in person."

"Who is she, Edward?" I repeat, my voice sounding unfamiliar in my ears.

"Her name is Bella. We met at the high school, if you can believe it. I met this amazing creature in the most tedious place on earth." Edward chuckles disbelievingly, and it is then that his words sink in.

"I don't understand," I say slowly, realizing what he is saying. "If you met her at the school… then she is..."

"Human," Edward finishes softly. His golden eyes are burning brightly with fresh blood and a passion I have never seen equaled. "Bella is a human."

It takes me another moment to realize that the laughter filling my ears is my own. The brittle sound startles us both. "Oh, Edward, no. You cannot mean what you are saying. That is utterly perverse," I manage to get out. My voice is sharp and scornful.

"I am well aware of that, Julia," Edward says stiffly, glowering at me. "I didn't plan for this to happen. Let me assure you, _no_ _one_ is more surprised than I am by this turn of events.

"The small size of the school made it inevitable that Bella and I would meet. If we didn't have a class together, our paths would have crossed some other way." Edward's face darkens again, his mouth pressed in a grim line. "If we hadn't met inside the school, where I was forced to account for the lives of others and the welfare of my family… you and I might be having a very different conversation."

"Are you saying you wanted to kill this girl?" I am struggling to both comprehend Edward's words and maintain my composure while a terrible dread settles over me.

"I did. I _do_ ," Edward admits in a choked whisper. "Every moment I am with her, it is all I can do to keep myself from draining her where she stands. Something about her blood crushes me with need. I've never felt anything so utterly devastating."

His face fills with shame, but the words continue pouring out as if a dam has been broken. "I've tried to leave her, believe me, but I cannot bring myself to stay away. I went to Denali for a few days, I thought about going to Europe, or to L.A. to find you, though nothing stopped me thinking about Bella. Nothing stopped me from needing, above all, to see her. To simply be near her."

I say nothing, misery rendering me mute as I watch Edward's face. The fire in his eyes and his sudden smile tell me volumes.

"What's more, I don't really see anything _except_ Bella." Edward says. His voice is hushed, his eyes sparkling with wonder. "It's as if every light in the world has been extinguished, but for the light coming from this lovely, breakable creature. She is a simple human girl and yet everything pales in comparison; I have never seen anything so beautiful. I watch her sleep at night and am completely mesmerized. I could spend the rest of eternity gazing at her as she slumbers, waiting for her eyes to open and meet mine, and waiting for her smile."

Neither of us speaks for a moment following Edward's confessions. I feel certain he has held back from sharing these sentiments with his family, at least in part. His words and the emotions behind them are too raw, and their power visibly overwhelms him. The heaviness creeping over me turns my limbs to stone, and I am sinking forever down. _Oh,_ _God._

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" My quiet words are shockingly loud in the silence.

"I'm…I think I am," Edward admits hoarsely, squeezing my fingers gently.

"I don't believe for a moment you don't know for certain." My voice is cutting, my eyes narrowing as I see he is not being wholly honest with me. "Don't lie to me or yourself, Edward."

Edward winces, clearly stung by the venom behind my words. "You're angry with me."

I force myself to speak through the ache in my chest grows more fierce with every word we exchange. "That's hardly the point," I reply with a shake of my head. I pull my hands from his and rise to walk a short distance away before turning to face him.

"Julia," Edward says, immediately falling silent again. He stands, exhaling roughly, as he runs his hands through his hair, clearly struggling to find words to continue.

"Edward, we've been discussing your solitude for the past eighty-five years," I murmur, working to reign in the riot of emotions racing through me. "The idea that you've found your mate in a human-"

"I don't know that I'm comfortable calling Bella my mate just yet," Edward cuts me off with a warning look.

"Forgive me, but being obstinate right now is in rather poor taste," I retort. "You've been waiting to meet your mate for decades, why deny the obvious now?"

"I'm not denying anything!" Edward protests loudly. His outrage is evident. "I would never deny Bella or the way I feel about her; as you say, I've waited long enough for this to happen. The fact remains, however, that she is a human. How can I be expected to apply the immutable terms and concepts of our world to her?"

We stand silently, looking at each other over the space I have placed between us, neither willing to back down. Edward's expression becomes increasingly troubled as the evening deepens, and his eyes are anxious. I realize with a jolt that he is torn between wanting to talk with me and returning to the girl. I am unable to prevent myself from sneering at him.

Edward is immediately contrite. "I apologize for being so distracted, Julia, I don't mean to be rude. Bella tends to be rather accident prone and I prefer to be close by—"

"Don't," I bite out, my voice hard. His wounded expression shames me, and I grit my teeth in an effort to calm myself. I cannot allow myself to think of the girl; I know all too well, what the monster inside me would like to do to her. "When are you going to change her?"

"Never," Edward retorts. His eyes are cold as he regards me with a deep scowl. "Why would you immediately conclude that I'm going to change Bella into one of us?"

Struck dumb, I can only gape at him for a moment. "Edward, you can't be serious. You know very well how delicate humans are. You will _kill_ her. Something dreadful will happen; you won't be able to help yourself."

"Not if I am very careful," he replies, his voice softening as he thinks of the girl. "Yes, there are dangers. I have been working out ways to accustom myself to Bella, to the scent of her blood. Carlisle and Alice feel sure I can do this if I am disciplined and, as you say, obstinate."

"But why, Edward?" My voice is nearly a whisper as we stare at each other. "Why would you willingly put yourself through something like that? Why put your family through it?"

"Julia… I can protect her, stay with Bella as she lives out her life." Edward's mouth turns up in a beautiful smile that crushes my dead heart. "I can endeavor to deserve her, to deserve loving her. I can endeavor to deserve the love Bella is so freely giving me."

I turn away quickly, my composure hanging by a thread. I cannot hold back my monstrous thoughts for the girl much longer. I cannot look at Edward for another moment or see his eyes shining and the tenderness in his smile. His lovely face is luminous, joy and love lighting him from within, while I am crumbling to dust inside, my emotions falling to ruin. I am walking away on trembling legs without even realizing I am in motion.

"Julia!" Edward flashes in front of me reaching for me with his long hands.

I shrink from him, my eyes fixed on his midsection and unable to look at his face.

"Please, don't just leave like this," he murmurs, his voice low as if trying to soothe a spooked animal.

"Don't touch me, Edward." I continue backing away slowly, overtaken by the violent trembling that has been building, my body readying itself for flight if he gets too close.

" _Please!_ " The break in his voice is what stops my feet. "I know you, Julia; you'll disappear again and I do not want to lose my friend. I need you, especially now! Can't you look at me?"

"What do you want from me, Edward?" I murmur, my voice cracking over his name, my eyes fixed on the ground between us. "I should have turned you away in New York, all those years ago. I still don't understand why I didn't do it then. You must know how hard this is for me. How can you not know?"

"Oh, God, Julia." His hands stretch toward me again in supplication, and his voice is strained. "I've made such a mess of this. I don't know what I expected, telling you about Bella. Of course, I know it hurts you! Please believe me when I tell you how deeply sorry I am to have hurt you, yet again.

"I need you. I need my friend," Edward whispers roughly, and the sorrow in his voice fractures my control by degrees. He takes a step toward me, forcing me to skirt past him slowly. I am desperate to get away. "Don't go, Julia."

"I can't promise anything, Edward. Not anymore," I murmur over my shoulder with my eyes lowered. "It's best if I put some space between us. I read you intentions to be with the girl in the forest tomorrow. Right now… I don't trust myself to be close to her."

With a shudder, I let my control slip and allow the violent images I have been fighting filling my head. Edward sees exactly what I want to do to the girl he loves, sees the dark smile my mouth wants to wear as I tear her throat open.

Edward snarl is immediate and shocking when he hears my thoughts. My body reacts instinctively, my hackles rising. A deadly growl fills my throat and my body tenses for an attack. With effort, I force myself to continue moving, steadily putting distance between Edward and myself until I feel sure enough of my legs to sprint into the night.

I watch the sun rise over the icefall on the Blue Glacier, dimly aware that my rain soaked clothes and hair are stiff with ice. It is midmorning when I hear light footfalls approaching behind me. My body stiffens before I notice pear and hyacinth notes on the icy breeze.

"Hello, Carlisle," I murmur, breathing steadily to relax my defensive posture.

"I'm sorry we're meeting again under these circumstances, Julia," he replies softly. Though it has been over eighty years since we last spoke, Carlisle's musical voice almost puts me at ease. "I won't ask if you're all right."

"Did he send you?" I ask after a moment.

"Yes. Edward is worried about you," Carlisle says simply.

"He's never had any right to be. Nor have I had a right to expect him to. You know that as well as I." My voice is dry, even as my eyes sting with unspent tears. Nothing I feel makes sense right now. "I knew this day would happen. Edward has had his doubts, but I never did."

"I don't know if Edward told you, but he's not entirely convinced of Bella's commitment," Carlisle replies. "He insists that, as a human, she is incapable of understanding what it means to love an immortal being."

"He's protecting himself," I offer, noting Carlisle's nod from the corner of my eye. "He's frightened, having waited so long for this. Surely you can understand that."

"I do, all too well," he agrees. He sighs somewhat sadly, his concern for his son evident. "I had hoped, after so many years of introspection, that it would be easier for Edward to accept this when it finally happened, to believe himself worthy of being loved."

"How can he?" I ask bitterly. "Like you, Edward is under the impression that he must pay for his sins as a vampire; indeed to pay for his very existence. Is it so surprising that he thinks himself undeserving of love now that it is within his grasp?"

Carlisle says nothing in response, instead approaching with great deference to sit a respectful distance from me. We each keep our eyes fixed on the ancient, fissured ice before us as the sun moves across the sky. I draw a weak kind of solace in his silent companionship, and wonder once more at his capacity for mercy.

It is past midday when he stirs, turning toward me. "I'm afraid I must go, I'm expected at the hospital. Emmett and Alice will be in the area, and I'd like to send them to see how you–"

"Please don't," I reply hoarsely. "Don't trouble yourselves. I'll leave soon. I'll make sure to stay away from the humans as I go."

"I appreciate that, Julia, but your hunting habits are not my main concern at the moment." Carlisle's voice is troubled.

"I'll be gone soon, Carlisle," I repeat, feeling my control beginning to slip.

"Edward cares deeply for you, Julia; you mustn't forget that." His voice is low with emotion, filling me with dull surprise before a humorless laugh bubbles to my lips.

"Actually, that's exactly what I need to do, Carlisle; I need to forget. Such a pity I'm incapable of doing so."

Another awful laugh comes out of me and this time I dare to steal a sidelong glance at Carlisle's face. The concern I see in his eyes sharpens the ache in my chest to an excruciating level, forcing me to smother a gasp. I snap my eyes back to the ice without another word, not trusting my voice to remain steady. _Thank_ _God,_ _he_ _can_ _'_ _t_ _hear_ _my_ _thoughts._

After a few moments longer, Carlisle rises to go. He pauses, turning toward me as if reluctant to leave.

"The offer we made you in Chicago still stands, Julia," he says with a kindness that makes my stomach twist. "Don't hesitate if and when you need to reach us." His footfalls are audible for a moment before he is gone.

The sun is setting when I make my way down the mountain, and the evening darkness is full by the time I pass the old stone bench. From there, I follow Edward's scent into Forks, moving stealthily as I approach the city. I know Edward will more than resent my intrusion into his private moments with the girl; he will protect her from the very real threat I pose. Thick trees obscure any view of houses near the girl's dwelling and I hear their voices before I ever discern the shape of a building. I stop by the trunk of a massive yew, listening to their quiet conversation floating like wisps of smoke through the night. The girl's voice is a sleepy mumble given the late hour and Edward's response comes in soothing murmur. Many small rustlings and creakings tell me that they can only be lying together as they speak, probably on the girl's bed. Edward begins humming softly over the girl's words, which are slurred with fatigue.

It is the warm intimacy and palpable affection in their simple conversation that undoes me. All of the air in my lungs leaks out with a strange, rattling squeak. I realize I am crouching on the ground with my legs folded underneath me, though I have no recollection of sitting. A whirling dizziness fills my head and I lean forward instinctively, pressing my face into the moss and panting like a wounded animal.

I become aware that Edward's humming has become quieter while I no longer hear the girl; she has fallen asleep. The silence following the end of Edward's song is deafening. When I hear the girl's bed softly creaking, I know he is coming to find me. The idea of talking to him fills me with a suffocating dread. I do not want comfort or explanations. I do not want to understand or forgive. I do not want Edward's soft voice and words; they will break me.

Leaping to my feet, I sprint away with everything I have, hurling myself through the trees with only one thought in mind: keep moving. I may hear the whisper of racing feet behind me, perhaps more than one set, though I cannot be sure. My mind registers dimly that, if Edward is following, he will turn back soon enough; having glimpsed my state of mind, he will not leave the girl unprotected. What he does not know is that the girl is safe from me. The last place I can imagine myself is anywhere near her or the city of Forks. The one thing I am certain of is that I must put as many miles as possible between the Cullens and myself. I will not crack if I stay away from Edward. I will not break if I keep running.

I blink. The roar of surf is loud in my ears, and my clothes are soaked against my skin. The full moon lights the night sky like a beacon. The salty tang of the icy water is strong in my nose and on my tongue.

I blink. Trees and brush flash by, green smudges in the light filtering through the trees. The dry smells of pine and fir fill my throat, and a thick carpet of leaves and needles rustle beneath my flashing feet.

I blink. The muffled cry of a human voice rings in my ears, and soft limbs squirm against my stone body. Blood gushes into my mouth, easing the flames in my throat. Another voice calls out in the dark, weakened and weeping, begging for mercy.

I blink. My clothes and hair are dusty with sand, and the scorching sun flashes on my skin. The air is utterly still and arid, devoid of any structure or sign of life, stretching as far as the eye can see all around me.

I blink. The pinging sound from my pocket catches my attention. It may be the first time I have been in range of cell phone towers since leaving Washington. Pulling the phone from my pocket, I stare dully at the dozens of text messages and missed calls from Edward starting several days ago. There, toward the end, is a text I want. Daniel.

_**I'm in LA, tell me you're here.** _

My fingers tremble as I pick out a reply, turning at once to continue west as dusk falls. I ignore the blood splashed on the body and cuffs of my shirt.

I blink. I am in the kitchen of my house, standing by the French doors that lead to the back garden. I can hear Daniel letting himself in, his light steps carrying him through the rooms of the first floor toward me. His arms curl around my waist and pull me against him.

"Hello, beautiful." His lips press to the back of my neck before he turns me to face him. "Oh, someone's been a bad girl."

He chuckles with delight, having smelled blood and caught sight of my crimson eyes. The sight of the blood on my clothes and skin catches his attention.

"Sweetheart, you're a mess," he says, pulling back to take in my appearance, his expression puzzled. "What have you been doing? It's all over you."

My continued silence alerts him, causing him to frown as he gently runs his hands over my arms and shoulders. His eyes snap up to meet mine when I shudder at this simple gesture of comfort. "Julia, what is it?"

A part of me wants to answer, to tell Daniel what has happened between Edward and me, and tell him about the human girl I desperately want to kill. But the words will not come. My lips are frozen and my voice catches in my throat. I can only look at Daniel's troubled expression, at his eyebrows furrowing deeply as he watches me. He reaches for my hands, taking the phone and what I realize are my keys. _I_ _left_ _my_ _car_ _behind._ _Christ._

"Julia, what's going on? What happened?" Daniel asks as he takes my hand, leading me slowly through the house. Leaving my phone and keys on the table by the door, he takes me upstairs. Guiding me into the bathroom, he drops the stopper in the bathtub drain and turns the taps on.

Daniel undresses me as the tub fills. He removes my boots and gently eases my stained clothes off before helping me into the warm water. He washes away the last few days with careful hands, rinsing off salt, sand, and blood with care. I allow him to care for me, silently listening to his soft voice urging me to tell him what has happened. Now and then, we hear the sound of my phone pinging echoing up the stairs.

I find my hands slowly coming back to life when Daniel dries me after the bath. I am able to button my blouse as he helps me dress, and bend to pull on a pair of boots without his direction. He leads me back downstairs, my hand tight in his. He stops by the sofa in the living room, softly pushing me down to sit. Cupping my face in his hands, he tilts my head back so he can look into my eyes.

Daniel's eyes glitter like rubies as he stares at me, filled with confusion that morphs with a flash into anger. "It was _him_ , wasn't it? Cullen."

This time, my mouth opens but nothing comes out. Licking my lips, I try again with the same silent result.

"What the fuck did he do to you?" Daniel growls, the sound rolling through him powerfully. I can feel the tension building in his body, mirroring his growing hostility. "Breathe, Julia, and tell me what happened so I can fucking _end_ him."

I have forgotten that speech requires air. I sip a breath cautiously; slowly filling my lungs for what I realize is the first time in several days. "Daniel," I croak at last, my voice nothing at all like mine.

"Jesus Christ, what?" he exclaims softly. His face washes over with relief to understand I am capable of rational thought. He slides his arms down to my shoulders again, rubbing soothing circles. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that; you startled me. What can I do, sweetheart?"

"I need to get out of here," I say slowly, my voice a rusty squeak. "Come with me."

"Of course I will," Daniel says at once. A smile spreads over his face when he sees that I am serious. His eyes begin to dance with excitement as he reassures me. "We can leave whenever you want; just say the word."

"Now." My voice is stronger. I stand and move toward the door, plucking my phone from the side table. It pings in my hand once more before I crush it between my fingers, the shattered pieces showering to the floor. "I'm leaving now," I say evenly, and pick up my keys.

My eyes flash over my shoulder to Daniel. He is behind me instantly, his chin on my shoulder and resting over old injury I sustained in San Francisco. His arms wind around my waist again, drawing me back against his body. I close my eyes for a long moment, and breathe his bergamot and vanilla scent, almost relaxing in his embrace. I let him press a soft kiss in front of my ear before I open the door, reaching for his hand to lead him into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to Edward: that didn't go well, buddy.
> 
> Next up we'll find our vamps reconnecting once more after Bella's disastrous 18th birthday party. (Nothing spoils a party like your boyfriend's brother trying to kill you.)
> 
> Thank you for reading and reviewing, if you leave one. I love hearing from you.


	8. Chapter 7: New Orleans, 2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward tracks Julia down, only to spend some time falling apart over Bella.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains some description of violence.

You cannot kickstart a dead horse  
You just crush yourself and walk away  
I don't care what the future holds  
Cause I'm right there and I'm today  
With your fingers you can touch me  
Thom Yorke - "Black Swan"

Music follows me everywhere in New Orleans. Voices echoing on the streets, blues and jazz pouring out of honky tonks, katydids whirring in the heavy air, they all combine to weave a bittersweet symphony. I have called many cities home over the last ninety-five years. Some are mere way stations that offer shelter and a place to rest my suitcase. Others call to me, inviting me to explore the culture of the humans living and dying around me. New Orleans is one such city for me.

I am adept at moving amongst the humans without drawing attention to myself, immersing myself in the slow crowds buzzing with energy, art, and culture. I spend evenings listening to bands in the city's bars, letting the music seep into my limbs. Blending in here is even more effortless because I am a pale shade of my former self.

It has been almost ten months since I broke ties with Edward. Most of the time, I feel numb. When I am with Daniel, it is easier to ignore the feelings of loss.

He spends evenings with me in the honky tonks, listening to music as his fingers draw circles on the backs of my hands. We explore the aboveground cemeteries, weaving silently around the whitewashed vaults of the dead. Occasionally, we haunt the shattered remains of the areas most devastated by the recent hurricane and flood, stepping softly through the silence of the deserted streets. We hunt amongst the legion of criminals prowling the streets.

Daniel is patient with my moods, and skilled at drawing smiles from me with his mischievous ways. He knows how to touch me. His lips and hands bring pleasure to my body that almost drowns out the conflicted thoughts in my head.

Like me, Daniel is a nomad, free of allegiance from any coven. His need to wander is more compelling than mine, leading him to wander for months at a time. When I am alone with my thoughts, I find myself lapsing into a state of indifference I have not known since my days in Chicago. The photographs I shoot are beautiful but lifeless. Books cannot hold my attention, films push my thoughts in directions from which I shy. I do not play music, and my cello sits untouched in my cottage in the Marigny.

When my thoughts become too tangled, I explore the wildlife refuges surrounding the city, grateful for the slow silence of the bayous. My eyes are always crimson.

Stretched out on the grass in Woldenberg Park, I watch the lights of the Greater New Orleans Bridge glint against the river. There is a new moon, and the hushed park is very dark in spite of the lampposts. But nothing here can harm me.

The scent of linen and amber takes me off guard, as do the light footfalls approaching steadily from my right. I raise my eyes to meet Demetri's, admiring the elegant planes of his face as he gazes down at me. His dark clothes are beautifully cut and purposely nondescript to deflect the attention of any observant human.

"Hello, Julia," he says, nodding politely. "I hope you'll forgive the intrusion; had I means of contacting you before tonight, I would have done so."

"Thank you," I reply, rising to face him. "But there is no need to stand on ceremony, Demetri; I've made no secret of my presence here."

He acknowledges my words with a nod, his dark hair whispering forward over his shoulder with the movement. He gestures toward the river with his hand, a small smile on his lips, and we begin strolling in that direction.

"What brings you to New Orleans?" I ask. "Surely, you cannot be here to issue me another warning regarding inconspicuous behavior."

"Indeed not," Demetri agrees with a dry chuckle. "The Volturi are in the area observing some nomads; their behavior has become disruptive enough to attract attention. I was aware that you were here in the area." Demetri's infallible tracking instincts make it impossible to evade him. Earlier in the year, he tracked me to a tiny rock bar in the middle of Los Angeles.

"Perhaps you are here to remind me of Aro's invitation to join the guard in Italy." While my voice is respectful, I watch Demetri's intentions closely.

"Not at all. Your invitation to join the Volturi remains, of course, at Aro's discretion." Demetri's voice and face are impassive. "Whether you choose to accept that invitation is your decision."

"My decision has not changed," I say, turning my eyes to the dark river as we walk. "As you know, I wish remain unattached to any coven."

I see Demetri nod once more and the amusement clear in his voice when he speaks. "Should you ever change your mind, I need not remind you that your place in the guard is secured. Your gift for reading intention will complement the Volturi's strengths nicely."

I say nothing in reply, but the silence between us is amicable as we follow the river for the mile or so it takes to reach the twin bridges. We pause in the shadow of the cantilevered structures, the sounds of traffic droning overhead.

Demetri turns to me, an unreadable expression in his eyes as he asks, "Julia, are you aware that the Olympic Coven has left the Pacific Northwest?"

"No," I reply after a moment, hiding my surprise with effort. Surely, something unexpected has happened to lead the Cullens to leave Washington prematurely. My first guess is that it involves the human girl; the girl Edward has chosen to love.

"So it would seem." Demetri watches me closely. "There has been word that Edward Cullen is traveling in the southwest United States."

I cannot help but stiffen slightly when Demetri mentions Edward by name. "I haven't communicated with the Cullens in some time," I say quietly. I meet Demetri's gaze evenly, unwilling to divulge any information about the Cullens, and particularly about the girl.

"I see," Demetri says. "Knowing of your association with young Edward, I wondered if perhaps he had been in touch. As you might imagine, a break in a coven as closely held as the Cullens is always of interest to the Volturi."

I nod silently, keeping every part of my demeanor neutral. I read nothing in Demetri's intentions that betrays malice toward the Cullens. I know, however, that the Voluturi's decisions are not made by foot soldiers, even those as gifted as Demetri. Whatever has happened to cause the Cullens to leave Washington, I must take care to prevent anything I say or think from bringing any of them harm.

Demetri nods as he turns to go, his eyes never leaving mine. "Until we meet again, Julia. Perhaps the next time will find you more agreeable to Aro's invitation."

His serene confidence strikes me, causing me to smile despite the tension. I cannot help marveling at the total surrender of self that Demetri's allegiance to the Volturi requires. That a part of me yearns to experience the pleasure of such abandon makes my insides twist unpleasantly.

"It's unlikely I will change my mind, Demetri," I reply at last. "Please extend my regards to Aro and the others."

He nods once more, his eyes glinting in the dim light before vanishing, the night folding behind him like a dark curtain.

A week later, I slip out of a café before dawn to dash through the streets as the city begins to stir. I am a half-block from my little cottage when I spot a familiar, lanky form on my front stoop and stop dead in my tracks.

He is leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his posture very human. His hair is wild, and his head and shoulders bow as if in fatigue. The wind shifts, blowing the sweet scent of honey and lilac into me, confirming what my eyes already understand; Edward is waiting on my steps.

I know he has heard my thoughts long before I ever saw him, but I find it difficult to move. A hurricane of feeling sweeps through me. Anger, resentment, and misery each take their turn; they are topped by the one emotion I still cannot bring myself to name. I scowl when I realize that after so many months of feeling next to nothing, the mere sight of Edward Cullen has thawed my frozen emotions in moments. _Good_ _Christ._

While I stand dithering on the sidewalk, tempted to turn on my heel and walk away, a soft and achingly sad sigh reaches my ears. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply once before I force myself to step forward. I open my eyes after five steps, letting them fall on Edward as I close the short distance between us. I stop about ten-feet from where he sits on the stoop, and let my gaze run over him as the silence between us thickens.

Edward looks like hell. His clothes and shoes are dusty and there is a tear in the right knee of his dark trousers. There is a haunted look about him, and an unfamiliar gauntness. When he lifts his eyes to mine, the beaten expression in their black depths makes my breath catch in my throat. His eyes, the purple shadows beneath them, and his extreme pallor tell me it has been a long time since he has fed; Edward is starving. Even so deeply altered he is beautiful, the whiteness of his lips making him more than ever appear to be carved from stone.

"I was just admiring your house," he says. His words are light, as if nothing has changed between us, but his lovely voice is husky from disuse.

Not yet ready to neither speak nor approach him, I continue to stand and watch him while my mind races. A light rain begins to fall, drops pattering softly over my silence.

"I see you've been gardening," Edward continues, nodding toward the holes in the dirt to the left of the stairs. "Can you grow anything this late in the year?"

"I've only been here for a couple of months," I reply at last, my voice quiet. "The garden work is half completed. I tore out some lilac bushes when I realized what they were. The gardener will replace them in the spring when the ground has thawed."

Edward blinks his face expressionless for a moment before it creases in a miserable grin. "You have the heart of a warrior," he murmurs. "I always manage to lose sight of that."

"I've learned to protect myself over the years. I think, however, that we can agree I've managed to fail quite badly at protecting myself from you, Edward." His eyes slide closed when I say his name, causing a wave of pity to pulse through me; I have never seen him so desolate.

My voice is kinder when I continue. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not sure I know," Edward replies, his eyes fluttering open. "I wanted to see you. I need your help. The way we parted in Forks, Julia... was unforgivable. Many reasons, really." Drawing a deep breath, he bows his head again and sinks his hands into his hair.

The sounds of the humans stirring in their dwellings around us tell me we have little time to linger outside of the house. Even with the cover of rain, Edward's current appearance is too conspicuous to avoid notice completely.

"Come with me," I say, stepping forward when Edward's head jerks up, his surprised eyes meeting mine. "We can talk after you hunt. You'll need your wits about you when we talk, particularly if you want to leave Louisiana with both arms still attached."

We run through the wet streets, taking the Causeway over Lake Pontchartrain. Edward's speed is only slightly affected by his hunger. He follows me northeast into Mississippi to a large forest outside of Hattiesburg while the sun rises behind the clouds.

Without discussion, Edward begins hunting, quickly tracking a small herd of white-tailed deer. He decimates the group, taking down and rapidly draining two bucks. The intensity of his thirst shows itself in his barely controlled movements and the muffled groan that escapes him when the blood hits his tongue for the first time. His unnecessary breaths are heavy when he tosses the second animal down, and he pauses for only a moment before darting after the fleeing herd to pull down a third animal.

I approach him quietly when he has finished feeding, standing a comfortable distance away as he studies the carcass at his feet and the rain falls around us. Already I can see the changes in his face wrought by the fresh blood; the shadows beneath his eyes have nearly vanished and a gentle flush colors his lips again. The eyes he turns on me are golden once more and infinitely sad.

"Julia," he begins in a careful voice. "I cannot forget how things ended between us in Forks. Can you forgive me for handling everything so badly?"

"I'm not sure how to answer that," I admit, my frown mirrored by Edward's. "I know you cannot change the way you feel. I knew you would find someone someday; I have always known it. In the end, however, that knowledge didn't make the reality any easier." Edward nods sadly as I pull in a deep breath, folding my arms around myself before looking away.

"Even knowing it was a possibility, it was shocking when you finally told me. I felt... gutted." I push on, needing to get the words out now that he is here before me. "I reacted badly, I know. But I hope you can recognize that I removed myself in order to control my reaction. Had I stayed... I am not sure what I would have done. I know only what I would have liked to have done."

A quick glance at Edward tells me he remembers very well how badly I wanted to kill the human girl... and he knows how much I desire to kill her at this moment. He is rigid with anger while he listens to my thoughts. His eyes are screwed shut and his jaw clenched as he fights the urge to attack. Silently, I lower my head while keeping my eyes pinned on him, my body readying itself for defense.

After a few moments, Edward recovers himself and he opens his eyes to meet mine. "Thank you for not losing control that day," he says, somewhat breathlessly, his efforts at control clearly coming at a cost. "Were our situations reversed, I am not sure I would have been so -"

"Merciful?" I cut him off, my voice filled with hostility. I know my face is hard, and that my eyes are burning with anger. But I am past sparing Edward's feelings.

He nods, his expression both resigned and remorseful, and finally jams his hands into his pockets. I watch him a few moments more before setting off into the trees, my steps rustling over the thick blanket of damp fallen leaves. Edward follows silently behind me, only a few steps back. We hike for some time without speaking, winding through the leafless trees. Here and there, ancient longleaf pines break through the bare brown trunks of maples and oaks. The rain tapers off when we stop on the bank of a wide creek, where tea-colored water swirls lazily around the cypress trunks.

I turn to look at Edward, struck again by the intensity of his misery. It is written on every feature of his face, in the set of his shoulders, and in the way he holds his hands. Edward meets my gaze, his lips quirking up in a humorless smile that is painful to see. He gestures with one hand to a sandy area on the bank, wordlessly asking me to sit.

"What happened in Washington, Edward?" I ask softly after we sit. "Why did your family leave ahead of schedule? Why are you alone?"

"You heard we left Forks?" Edward's brows furrow in confusion as he processes my words.

"The Volturi heard the Cullen family left Forks," I clarify. "They have also been informed that you are no longer with your family. Demetri paid me a visit not long ago, wanting to know if I'd heard from you."

"So many things have happened," Edward replies with a sigh, his expression grim. "So many things in such a condensed amount of time, I sometimes have a hard time believing it, even though I was there. It began just after you left."

Fixing my eyes on the creek, I cannot help asking, "Was it the girl?"

"Oh, yes, it was Bella." Edward's chuckle is dark as he raises a hand to rub his forehead. "It has always been about Bella, from the very beginning. You were right. When you warned me that it was dangerous to spend time with a human. I couldn't keep Bella safe. She was... too fragile for us."

Edward describes introducing the girl to his family shortly after I fled Forks, and their delighted reactions with the exception of Rosalie. He tells me of the baseball game and his disastrous miscalculation in allowing the girl to be seen by a trio of nomads, their leader deciding on impulse to destroy her. He details the frantic flights of different factions of the family acting as decoys to separate the nomads and divide their strength. In the end, he admits, their efforts were fruitless. The coven leader tracked the girl to Arizona, using subterfuge to exploit her all too human emotions, and cornered her in a deserted ballet studio. Without the timely intervention of Edward and the Cullens, the girl would have been slaughtered.

"I called you, Julia," Edward says, clearly trying to control his frustration. "I called you so many times and sent you messages, not only to apologize but to ask for your help when we were tracking the nomads - "

I cut him off flatly, leveling a look at him. "Edward, I know you did. I saw the messages. I won't apologize for not replying. The time I spent after leaving Forks and returning to Los Angeles was not an entirely coherent time. There are flashes that I recall very clearly but overall... it is unclear. I am only certain that I hid myself well enough to avoid detection by both humans and vampires. My memories become reliable after Daniel met me at my house, and that was at least five days after you and I argued.

"I was not in a position to help you then, Edward. I was hardly in a position to help myself."

Edward's expression is horrified and sickened as he listens, his eyes burning as they fix on mine. One hand reaches toward me before he stops himself, reaching instead to rub the back of his neck. "And since then? Your number is no longer valid, as I'm sure you know," he murmurs.

"I destroyed that phone and terminated the account. I have another now, but I don't often carry it with me," I say, calming myself. "Daniel knows the number and he sometimes uses it when he's out roaming, but he's the only one. I didn't want anyone finding me, Edward. I didn't want to talk to you."

Edward's hand returns to torture his hair, and his eyes close when he asks in a low voice, "And now? Do you still feel that way now?"

"My feelings haven't changed much," I admit softly, drawing my knees up under my chin. "A large part of me still doesn't want to talk to you. The same part of me doesn't want to be here with you right now."

We sit for a long time in silence while the rain picks up again, the overcast sky darkening slightly as the day wanes. A sense of melancholy runs through me when I acknowledge how deeply our friendship has broken down. After our first meeting, things were always easy between us. Edward and I have never before been this awkward around one another.

"Edward," I begin again, unable to bear the silence any longer. "What happened between your family and the nomads doesn't explain why you are alone or why the coven left Washington. Is the girl dead?"

Edward's entire body radiates distress, and his voice is tight with emotion. "No. Bella is alive. If we stay away from her, she will live the life she was meant. A life that is free of the violence in our world."

I persist as delicately as I can, needing to understand his wretchedness. "What the hell happened? What _happened_ to you?"

"I left her," he says, his soft voice ringing with a terrible finality. "I... it was best for Bella that I leave."

For a long moment, I sit in dumbfounded silence, unable to make sense of Edward's words.

"Explain yourself," I say at last. "Explain how you can say that to me after declaring your love for that girl mere months ago."

"Why does it matter to you, Julia?" Edward's voice is tired. A grim smile spreads over his mouth, and his eyes fill with angry recrimination. "I thought you of all people would be pleased to hear I'd left Bella behind."

"Whatever you think of me, I expect you to remember that I do not take pleasure in things that cause you grief, even now," I retort. "Shouldn't I care when you turn up on my doorstep half-starved, looking like a godforsaken wraith? When the expression in your eyes is that of a man slowly burning alive? Edward, if you were a human, I daresay you'd be dead by now."

The look on his face at that moment sends a thrill of terror through me so intense my words die on my lips. _Oh,_ _my_ _God._ In his half formed intentions, I see plainly that Edward does _not_ care about his life at this moment. Given means and opportunity, he would allow himself to be destroyed without a second thought. It is only thoughts of the girl that are tethering him to this life.

Leaping to my feet, I begin pacing furiously before rounding on him with a cry. "Does Carlisle know?"

Edward's face pales before he recovers, his expression rapidly becoming defiant as he stands to face me. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you dare deny it, Edward; it's written all over your face!" I am beside myself with anger, shouting while my hands ball into fists at my sides.

"You don't know _anything_ ," he snaps back in a furious hiss, his face dark with rage. "You have no right to say such things to me after disappearing yet again!"

"Christ, Edward, stop deflecting and tell me the truth," I throw back at him, feeling my face twisting in a sneer. I stalk toward him with narrowed eyes, firing questions at him relentlessly. "Does Carlisle know that you'd rather be dead than without that girl? What about Emmett, have you told him? And Alice, does _Alice_ know?"

With a roar, Edward lunges toward me, his sudden action forcing my body to react defensively. A snarl rolls through me as I brace for a blow that never comes. Instead, Edward sinks a fist into the nearest cypress, pulverizing the lower trunk in an explosive shower of splinters. Shuddering once, the enormous tree crashes down, falling partway into the creek while branches clatter around us.

Through these fractured moments of chaos, I see that Edward is truly beside himself with suffering. His face contorts with pain, and his body is rigid and shaking. Grasping his head with both hands, he pulls at the hair violently, while a terrible sobbing sound comes out of him that rends my dead heart.

I dart to his side without thinking, grabbing his wrists before he tears the hair from his head. Edward's combined thought reading and superior height would typically make it difficult for me to subdue him. But he is weakened from fasting and grieving, and easy to catch off guard. I manage to overpower him quickly, pushing down on his wrists until he sits with his long legs folding underneath him. Moving behind him, I kneel and wrap my hands like steel around his wrists to push them toward his lap. I lean into his back with my chin on his right shoulder, angling my face so that my mouth is close to his ear.

"Stop, Edward. Shhh," I chant quietly, my low tones and steady words slowly calming him. When his sobs have tapered off into occasional pained grunts, I loosen my grip on his wrists but pull him even more closely against me. I make as much contact with his body as possible; Edward has never been a loner and his recent solitude has worn on him.

"The hair tugging has to stop, you know," I murmur, leaning my temple lightly against his ear. "Spending eternity with great bald spots all over your head will make you truly insufferable. And just imagine Emmett's reaction."

Edward huffs a strangled laugh, and his body relaxes underneath me with a great shudder. He reaches back abruptly, catching me off guard and pulling me around to sit on his lap. His arms wrap around my waist in a vice grip and I pull him close at once. My arms are strong around his shoulders while he buries his face in my neck, his suffering rolling off him in waves.

Unlike many of my kind, it is rare that I find occasion to long for my past humanity. I have never been one to look back in regret on that brief, muddled life that passed so fleetingly. In this moment, however, I wholeheartedly wish Edward could sleep. Perhaps he would find peace in the oblivion of dreams, if only for a short time.

It is dark before we speak again, the nighttime sounds of the woods rising around us. The clouds have cleared and stars are shining coldly through the bare tree limbs above us. My voice is whisper soft as I ask, "Will you tell me what happened?"

For a moment, I am not sure Edward will answer, though I feel his arms tighten around me once more. I raise a hand to caress his hair, carefully taming the wild locks with easy strokes meant to reassure him.

"It was Bella's birthday," he begins at last, his lips moving against my neck. Edward's hoarse voice is immeasurably sad as he speaks, and filled with awful resignation that sets me on edge. "She pleaded with us to forget the day, but Alice refused. I should have listened to Bella, respected her wishes, but I indulged my sister.

"Bella cut herself. On _paper_ , if you can imagine such a thing. A minor thing, really, just a scratch." He swallows hard, straining to control himself. "But the blood... Jasper lost control. He attacked, I defended her... and in doing so, I knocked her across the room.

"I could have killed her so easily, Julia. Bella was very lucky that evening and the injuries I caused here were superficial. But I _know_ she realized, as she sat there bleeding, that we each would have cheerfully killed her in an instant had we not spent so many years practicing abstinence. As it was, we had to drag Jasper out of the house to prevent him draining her dry.

"Every one of us, with the exception of Carlisle, _wanted_ to kill her, Julia, if only for a second. And Bella recognized that. She recognized us for the monsters that we are."

"She sent you away then?" I ask, my fingers still gently combing through Edward's hair.

His laugh is bitter when he finally pulls back so I can see his face, and I trace his jaw line with my fingers. "On the contrary; Bella spent as much time as she could over those next few days writing off Jasper's behavior as an unfortunate accident. As if that were enough to make me forget that, despite Jasper's unfortunate slip, _I_ was the one that actually injured her. That I wasn't responsible for placing her in a house full of vampires swallowing back their venom while she did her best not to bleed to death."

"You exiled _yourself_ ," I reply, a bleak understanding dawning. Edward is the instrument of his own misery.

"Yes, I thought it best to leave right away," he says sorrowfully. "Jasper and Alice had already gone to Alaska; he was inconsolable though none of us blamed him, least of all Bella. I convinced the rest to follow. I stayed behind to say goodbye to her." Edward's voice catches, a shudder running through him.

I say nothing, sympathy rising in my chest for Edward and for his family. I can only imagine how hard he strived to make his relationship with the girl work, how much he has sacrificed, and how deeply his reserves of restraint have been strained. Despite everything, here he sits, alone and desolate, wearing his love like a tarnished crown.

"I told Bella - oh, God, I said irrevocable things, Julia." Edward's face is ablaze with shame again, his voice hoarse as he forces himself to confess. "I did the things I swore I'd never do. I denied my feelings for her, denied everything between us.

"I made her feel demeaned and unloved. I made her feel unwanted," he concludes with a gasp, letting go of me to cover his face with his hands.

I pull him close again, steadying his trembling as best I can. His labored breaths are loud in my ears. When he quiets, I loosen my hold on him to pry his hands away from his face. I wait until he meets my eyes, his own swimming with grief, before I speak.

"You've done this to spare the girl? Sacrificed your own happiness and perhaps hers in some attempt to save her?"

"Of course," Edward murmurs dully. "Bella deserves to live a human life, Julia. She deserves to marry, have children, and to be happy. Someday she will die, as humans are _meant_. She should not live in fear of being slaughtered by me or my family, or a stray nomad that decides she's to be their next meal."

"You have no choice, Edward. You have to change her." The bewildered look Edward turns on me as I speak makes me smile sadly. "You cannot be with her while she is human, that much you already know. But I see quite clearly that you cannot be without the girl at all. There is no other solution; you must make her like you."

A mix of anguish and disgust creases Edward's features as he slowly shakes his head. "I can't. To snuff out her life and doom her to this monstrous eternity... I cannot bear to think on it. I can't bear to think how much she will despise me when she finally understands the full reality of the life I have condemned her to."

"What if you are mistaken? Perhaps you are underestimating her; underestimating _yourself_ ," I argue gently, trying to reach past Edward's infuriating mulishness. "Do you hate Carlisle for changing you?"

"Of course not. There was a time when I resented him, but I grew to see that the feeling was misplaced," he replies with a sigh. "But, like you and every other immortal I've met, I was brought into this existence without an understanding of what was happening. I had no prior knowledge of what I was losing by entering this life. Bella knows what she would be giving up, a knowledge that will deepen as time goes on. How could she help hating me?"

"When the Best is gone - I know that other things are not of consequence - the Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care," I say, quietly quoting Dickinson as Edward's face softens with misery. "Even if you could read her thoughts, only she can know her mind, Edward. Making the decision for her based on your assumptions is unfair in every way."

The half moon is high above us in the black sky when Edward's thirst forces him to hunt again. He tracks another herd of deer, taking down two more before we turn back toward the city. Wordlessly, Edward follows me back to the cottage where he sinks onto the sofa in the living room to brood. Needing to put space between us again, I watch him quietly from the doorway, leaning against frame while the silence between us grows more oppressive and the minutes tick by.

I have so many questions. And I suspect his answers will only make me unhappy. Finally, I ask the one question that has puzzled me from the moment I saw him sitting on the stoop. "Edward, what made you come to see me?"

"I didn't plan to come here," he admits, his voice too quiet for human ears. "I've been doing some tracking in the southwest. I was passing through New Mexico and I heard word that you and Daniel were in Louisiana. I thought I would try to speak to you."

"Why?" I ask in a returning whisper, my chest heavy with sadness as I watch Edward's hopeless expression.

"Of anyone I know, Julia, you are the only one that might have any inkling of what I am feeling right now." His yellow eyes fill with an awful calm as he regards me across the room. "Losing first Miranda and then our friendship, I knew you would understand what it has been like for me since leaving Bella. This may sound like purely selfish motivation, but I assure you that my thoughts are of you. Perhaps, now, knowing that I have been broken, you can begin to forgive me."

The lump that rises in my throat at Edward's words both surprises and exasperates me. I reluctantly enter the room, sitting at the opposite end of the sofa with my head in my hands.

"Have you," Edward begins, breaking off again to study his hands as he gathers his thoughts. "Julia, have your feelings for me changed?"

"No," I reply immediately. My breath sighs out of me as I right myself to lean against the backrest. "My feelings are the same as always. Moreover... I suspect they will never change."

"You cannot know how sorry I am." Edward reaches out to take my hand in his, pressing them together against his silent chest. His eyes infinitely sad when they search my face. "I don't understand how you've been able to bear these feelings for so long."

We sit for a time, the sounds of the streets around the cottage echoing quietly through the room as the night deepens, and we watch one another. Human voices mix with the sounds of traffic, while the moon makes it slow way across the night sky and Edward holds my hand with great tenderness.

"What will you do next?" I ask finally. I am not sure what I want his answer to be.

"I'll go back to tracking," Edward replies with a shrug, his eyes dull again.

"You're tracking the nomads, the ones that threatened the human girl?"

"Just the one, actually, a female called Victoria. She will want to avenge her mate." There is a menace in Edward's soft voice that I have not heard since our hunting days in Boston. "I followed her into New Mexico before I detoured to come here. Until Victoria is gone, the threat the leader, James, began will continue to hang over Bella and her family."

Abruptly, the names of the nomads he has spoken strike something inside me. I cannot shake the feeling that I have heard those names before. I sit up, pulling my hand out of Edward and feel my brow furrow. I glance at Edward to see my frown mirrored in his face.

"What is it?" he says, curiously, his eyes widening as he hears my thoughts. "Do you _know_ Victoria?"

"I'm not sure," I say slowly, shaking my head in concentration. "I'm almost sure I've heard those names before, in relation to one another. It could only have been from Daniel."

"Daniel," Edward replies with a hiss, his face instantly darkening with rage, tension coiling his body like a spring. "He _knew_ James? And knows the others?"

"I don't know, Edward," I protest, holding my hands up to calm him. "Daniel has been running, on occasion, with same coven for many years, since long before I knew him. They were a group of three and he told me the leader had excellent tracking skills; that I remember specifically."

"What makes you think it might have been James's coven?" Edward springs to his feet, scowling as he paces around the room.

I shake my head again as I fold my arms around myself. Instinct tells me there is something between Daniel and the nomads.

"It's just a feeling really. Daniel asked me to travel with them several times, but I wasn't interested and we never discussed any specifics. Earlier this year, I noticed that Daniel had been with me steadily for much longer than ever before. When I asked him about it, he told me the coven had disbanded in the spring. With everything you've told me today, Edward... the timing can't be coincidence."

"Could he have been helping them, Julia?" Edward crouches at my feet, a low growl building in his chest as he grits the words out between clenched teeth. "Does Daniel's animosity for me extend that far?"

"No," I say resolutely, placing my hands on Edward's shoulders to reassure him. "Daniel was with me from the time I left Los Angeles until he left me in Savannah over the summer. He couldn't have helped the nomads in their efforts to hunt the girl or hurt your family, I am sure of it."

"But he knows them. Daniel knows Victoria," Edward argues, his voice thick with fury.

"He may," I admit with a sinking feeling. "Daniel has been traveling in and around Texas and the southwest since the fall. It's possible he has been in contact with Victoria."

Edward inhales deeply then, his eyes closed in an obvious effort to control his anger. He reaches up across his chest to place his hand on top of mine, giving my fingers a reassuring squeeze. When he opens his eyes again, they are sharp and intent. "When you see him next, you must warn him, Julia. The last thing I wish to do is hurt you again. But I will kill Victoria and I will go through Daniel to do so."

"I'll come with you, "I say with a nod, moving to stand.

"What? No, that is out of the question," Edward replies immediately. He stands and holds me by one wrist to stop me.

"This isn't a request, Edward; I'm coming with you," I say calmly, taking his restraining hand in mine. "You're not a natural tracker; having an extra set of senses with you will help."

Walking into the bedroom, I find the wallet containing my identification cards in the dresser, and push it into my jacket pocket along with my phone and its charger. All the while, Edward is trailing behind me, forbidding me to accompany him as he searches for the female nomad. Ignoring him, I make my way out of the bedroom and to the front door.

I pick up my keys and turn to him, placing my hand over his mouth to stop the incessant arguing. "Edward. Daniel has been a true friend to me over the years, and especially so this year. I daresay he helped keep me sane."

Edward's face fills with shame at my quiet words. He takes my hand from his mouth, holding it in his own for a moment before he speaks. "Daniel has my gratitude and respect for that, Julia. You have my word that I will not harm him unless it cannot be helped."

"That's not good enough, Edward," I reply softly. I run the thumb of my free hand over his left cheek, watching as his eyes soften. "I have no doubt you would keep your word. Daniel, however, has made no such pledge to me regarding your safety. Make no mistake; after everything that happened this year, he will take great pleasure in doing you harm if he is able."

"Thank you." Edward's small smile is meant to be reassuring. "I don't deserve your concern but I am glad to have it. Nevertheless, I will not have you fighting my battles for me. I can take care of myself, Julia."

"That remains to be seen," I reply with a humorless grin of my own. "Now please, stop wasting your time arguing with me. I am coming with you; in fact, I will be driving. If Daniel is with Victoria, well... the best I can hope for is to keep you from killing one another."

With an exasperated groan, Edward pulls his hands from mine and stalks back into the living room. The noise of my cherry coffee table splintering is loud. Without another word, I open the door to step outside, sinking down on the stoop to wait out Edward's tantrum. Before long, he steps outside, his expression grim but resigned. He waits patiently as I lock the door before we begin the journey west into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vampire road trip - I call shotgun.
> 
> Next we'll catch up with Julia and Edward on their wild southwest adventures.
> 
> Also, "the Heart wants what it wants" quote is from a letter Emily Dickinson wrote to her friend, Mrs. Samuel Bowles. I've always found it particularly poignant.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	9. Chapter 8: Rio de Janeiro, 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward and Julia work together to track down that vixen, Victoria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains some description of violence.

I'm holding to nothing  
Repeat my destruction  
Inside voices taunt me  
UNKLE - "Ever Rest"

We have been lying on this narrow bed for three days. The room is small, hardly larger than a monk's cell, and poor to the point of squalor. The sounds of the favela pour through the open windows to mix with the noises of the humans crowded above and below us. Edward curls on his side facing the wall, his body rigid. I press against his back, my arms winding under his to embrace him, my face inches from the nape of his neck. He grasps my hands in his own, and pulls me closer so that my body rises and falls against his when he breathes.

Edward is losing the battle to exile himself from the human girl. He refuses to hunt and has not fed in over three weeks. His eyes are black with thirst, the purple shadows beneath them growing darker each day while his pallor increases. His worn clothes are dust filled, the fabrics rubbed thin in places by his stone limbs. He cannot bear the company of others, but grows agitated when left alone. More than once, I have returned from hunting to find the room empty. I follow his scent through the maze of shanties and tenements, and coax him from the filthy crawl spaces where he has tucked himself in an effort to stave off panic.

I steel myself for the argument I feel sure my words will begin, and murmur gently. "You have to go back, Edward."

"There is no going back," he replies hoarsely, his body stiffening against me. "There is nothing to return to now."

"Then go home to your family," I plead. His hands tighten around mine, and a pained gasp escapes him. "I'll call Carlisle for you; tell him to meet us here. You _know_ they want you to go back."

"Don't!" Edward's whisper is harsh and desperate. "I - I'll call him myself if I have to, Julia. You have my word. Just... I'm asking you, please, to let me decide."

After a moment, I agree, silently letting him hear my thoughts. I know it is wrong to indulge his refusals but I have no idea what to do.

...

We leave New Orleans before Christmas, driving northwest toward New Mexico, where Edward left off tracking the female nomad, Victoria. After picking up the scent trail outside Alamogordo, we abandon the car to walk into the desert foothills.

We follow Victoria for weeks, trailing her southeast across the arid terrain into Texas. The relentlessly bright days force us to move and hunt after dusk, night after night stretching into the darkness.

We cross paths with others of our kind as we travel, though the interactions are not amicable. We are most often observed as we pass through territories, crimson eyes watching from rooftops or the dark windows of noiseless buildings. Sometimes, a vampire will follow us on foot, maintaining a guarded distance until Edward and I are outside the city limits, when the figure melts back into the night.

Though we are not natural trackers, Edward and I work easily together. Our combined skills for reading those around us work to our advantage, allowing us to pick up scattered clues about Victoria's route. We can spend a day or longer exchanging fewer than a dozen words, but there is no enmity between us; we simply focus on the task.

Edward is at his best when he is tracking, focusing with grim intensity on keeping the trail and finding new information where we can. When forced indoors to avoid the sunlight, he falls prey to an overwhelming desolation. He sits motionless as stone in the flickering light of the motel televisions, impenetrably mute, waiting out the hours before we can use the night to continue searching.

"Do you have any regrets?" he asks quietly one morning, surprising me by speaking. We have checked into a motel near Odessa and have been lingering on the balcony to watch the violet predawn sky slowly absorb the stars.

I cock my head at him, my lips twisting in a grin. I tease him gently to encourage the conversation. "Surely you understand me well enough to know I don't hold much stock in regret, Edward. Are you speaking of something specifically?"

"When we argued in Forks, you said you should have turned me away when I turned up in New York," he replies seriously. "Is that true? Do you regret our friendship?"

The smile on my lips becomes sad as I watch Edward's beautiful, haunted face. The somber expression in his eyes matches my own. "I was angry when I said those words and should have stopped myself." A sigh whispers past my lips as I look out over the barren winter landscape.

"Did you mean what you said?" he asks, his voice dropping lower.

"Yes- and no. I won't deny that I wish things had turned out differently between us." I turn to meet his golden eyes again. "There are some things I would do differently, given the chance to back. But I don't regret having been your friend or having had you in my life."

"I'm glad," Edward says simply. His hand seeks out mine, linking us together before he leads the way indoors.

While Victoria's scent trail remains clear and reasonably easy to follow, a several day head start keeps her ahead of us until we near San Antonio. The trail thickens there, as the terrain and climate grow milder. We near the city limits under cover of mid evening, following the gradually fresher scent south through the suburbs. Though he says nothing, Edward's excitement is palpable, and his eyes are bright with energy long absent.

"Wait," he whispers, stopping suddenly, his hand reaching out toward me as we cross one of the golf courses dotting the northern sections of the city.

A deep growl rolls through him without warning, sending my predatory instincts into overdrive. My lips pull back from my teeth when I snarl. In a flash, Edward is tearing over the fairway and out into the quiet streets with me following behind. I know, without his having spoken, that Victoria is here, right now, and he has heard her thoughts directly.

We race toward the downtown district, passing blocks of office buildings closed at this hour, our light steps echoing against the low hum of traffic and human voices. I catch a fleeting glimpse of a figure far ahead of us, blurring in and out of visibility. The figure moves like a vampire.

"There!" I call in a low voice, and Edward's answering grunt drifts back through the cool air.

We pursue Victoria south, sprinting through the city's center and into residential neighborhoods lying before passing out of the city limits. Victoria's form melts in and out of the night as we run, and Edward begins slowly closing the distance.

The trail veers right into the shadow of an empty sporting arena ahead of us. Our feet are flying over a vast, unlit parking lot when the headlights of several oncoming cars fall upon us with startling abruptness. The air fills with the scream of tires against pavement and the smell of burning rubber. A surprised gasp escapes me as I vault over the closest car hurtling toward me, my body sailing effortlessly through the air. I glimpse Edward's form in the air ahead of me before I land, the impact propelling me into a roll before I gain my feet. Edward catches my eye from his place at my left, and the two of us back toward each other quickly.

We stand together, warily watching three black cars careening around us in wide circles. The engines are loud beneath the glossy exteriors, and built for speed, their combined power rising in a thunderous roar. Behind the windshields, I catch glimpses of sharp, white faces, vampiric features lit with hard laughter. The cars circle several times before peeling off into the darkness, each driving in a different direction.

"Damnit!" Edward roars, seething with frustration as he eyes the departing taillights. "Follow one of the cars, I'll take the others!"

I move at once to run north, turning back to exclaim, "Call if you find anything!"

"If she's there, I'll be able to hear her once I get close enough," Edward shouts over his shoulder before racing east in pursuit.

The car I follow speeds over the interstate, passing back through San Antonio and out again into the northern suburbs, retracing the path Edward and I just made. As the car nears the SAT airport, I feel certain Victoria is in the car before me. A sinking feeling spreads through me at the thought of her boarding an aircraft, and I suspect our window to catch her is closing. The car blasts into one of the airport parking structures, and I pause to fire off a text to Edward; it will take him only minutes to cover the short distance between us.

I move quickly into the parking structure, scanning the rows of vehicles for the car or its occupants. A surge of excitement rushes through me when I cross an unfamiliar scent trail mixed with Victoria's. I hasten toward the exit and approach the smaller of the two terminals. A trail drenched with bergamot and anise freezes me in my tracks. My insides are heavy with dread when I begin moving again, my eyes darting from face to face in the buzzing crowds, seeking him out. _Daniel._

"Julia," Edward's voice is low in my ears. Glancing back, I spot him approaching, his nostrils flaring gently as he crosses the scent trails. His eyes widen when he recognizes Victoria and Daniel's, and his shock melts into anger when he hears my thoughts.

"What the hell is he playing at?" Edward exclaims with a hiss, taking my hand while we follow the trails into the terminal.

I squeeze his fingers in an effort to calm him. "I don't know. I honestly didn't think -"

"You have an unfortunate tendency of underestimating Daniel," Edward retorts, his carefully controlled voice tight with anger.

"Leave it out, Edward," I murmur, pointing in the direction of the exit where the scent trails lead.

Neither of us is prepared when Victoria's trail dries up with bruising suddenness in an unused parking lot a few hundred feet from the terminal. We simply stand on for a moment in the cool night air, the loss washing over us as jets roar overhead. The trails of other vampires lead off in different directions, but Victoria's is gone.

"There must have been another car waiting for her," I murmur, the defeat audible in my voice.

Edward drops my hand, clutching the back of his neck with a low groan. He whispers brokenly through clenched teeth. "This cannot be happening. I'm not picking up anything at all."

"They haven't gone far, let's decide which direction to move," I say softly, watching him pace. "You've been following her longer; what do you think she'll do next?"

"That's the trouble, Julia," he replies, desperation written all over his face when he comes to stand in front of me. "I am wretched at tracking. I have been following her for months but I just can't predict what she'll do. The _only_ thing I've been able to do is follow her scent trail and now that it's gone..." His voice trails off as his eyes focus over my shoulder, his face growing dark with rage.

Daniel's scent fills my nose even before I turn to follow Edward's gaze. Daniel is standing a dozen feet away from us, his body nearly vibrating with tension as he stares at Edward. Low warning snarls from each of them fill the air. Daniel's handsome features are marred with outrage. His lips twist in an ugly sneer and his red eyes are blazing as they shift from Edward to fall on me.

Immediately, I take a step toward Daniel, insinuating myself between him and Edward. His utter lack of surprise at seeing Edward dispels any remaining uncertainty about Daniel and James having known each other.

"Did you know?" My voice is hoarse in my ears as I stare at him, and my anger mixes with crushing disappointment. "Did you know about James's coven attacking the Cullens? Did you help James and Victoria, Daniel?"

"What the hell are you doing here, Julia? Why are you with him?" Daniel replies with a snarl, ignoring my questions. He gestures angrily in Edward's direction and mutters a curse. "When is it going to finally be too much for you to take? What is it going to take for you to realize that he is no good?"

Shaking my head in warning, I take another step toward Daniel while Edward bristles behind me. "Don't do this, Daniel, not now."

Daniel continues as if I hadn't spoken, his words razoring through the air. "It's not enough that he's strung you along for all these years? It's not enough that he tossed you aside for that pitiful meat puppet? Jesus, have you grown that accustomed to being humiliated that you're now seeking it out?"

Disgust is clear in his eyes as he stares at me.

"Enough!" I say angrily, flitting to Daniel's side when Edward lets loose a ferocious growl.

I catch the scent of the other vampires then, and my eyes dart in vain to search the dark corners of the structures around us. Though I see nothing, it is clear Daniel is not alone. I take his arm and tug at him roughly, knowing I must separate him from Edward before one of them attacks.

"Get _off_ me, Julia," Daniel shouts. He wrenches his arm out of my hand, leaving my fingers stinging from the loss. He glares at Edward over my shoulder, teeth bared over his own menacing growls.

"Daniel, what in the hell do you think you are doing?" I hiss, my voice hard. "How many of those thugs did you bring tonight to ambush us? Were you driving the car that tried to run us down?"

Daniel's narrowed eyes are blazing with disbelief when he turns them back to me.

"If you really think I would want any part in wanting to harm you," he breaks off before his face twists spitefully. "You don't know what the fuck you are talking about. Damnit, it's _always_ like this when it comes to him. You are so blind, Julia!"

"Don't you _dare_ turn this around on me," I fire back, my inability to read Daniel's intentions heightening my anger. "Not when you've been keeping so much from me for _months_ , things I needed to know."

"You're interested in what I do only when it involves him," Daniel retorts in a low, dangerous voice. He stares at me for a beat longer before shaking his head, exhaling heavily. "I'm done, Julia; I can't do this anymore. I can't pick up the pieces the next time you fall apart the way you did in L.A. I can't keep trying to convince you that you deserve better, that you deserve more than to be some kind of glorified lapdog for that bastard."

 _Oh._ I wince as my anger falls away, leaving me wounded and exposed. I glimpse a spark in Daniel's eyes, a raw pain that pierces me. For a moment, I do not care why he is here or how he knows Victoria; I care only that there is anguish in his eyes, and I am the cause. I raise my hands to touch him again, to ask him to stay and let me explain why I am here with Edward. My fingertips brush the fabric of Daniel's jacket sleeves, pulling his scent into my throat and nose with a deep breath, before he blurs and disappears.

"Don't," I cry out in a whisper, my hands closing on nothing.

I do not know how long I stand there, watching the night for any sign of him but seeing none. Edward's long fingers on my elbow finally rouse me from my daze.

"They're gone," he says, his low voice rough in my ear. "The others that were here; they've gone as well."

I turn toward Edward, nodding silently, feeling his eyes on me. With extreme gentleness, he raises his fingers to run over my hairline, his hand ghosting down my neck before coming to rest on my shoulder. Over the years, Edward and I have shared hundreds of such chaste gestures, these simple moments expressing the deep affection we have never truly voiced. Looking into Edward's great, sad eyes now, I realize this is the first time he has truly touched me in this manner since our argument in Forks nearly a year ago.

"Are you all right?" He takes my hands in his, a pained sincerity written all over his lovely face.

"I just wish I knew for certain why he was here," I murmur with a frown. "I don't want to believe that he meant to harm us. And I want him to understand why I'm here with you."

Edward drops my hands then, turning to offer me his arm. The simple, familiar gesture makes my eyes burn with tears I do not have. I slide my fingers into the crook of his elbow with a strained laugh.

"I can't tell you why he was here specifically," Edward says gently as we turn to walk toward the terminal. "But I believe he did not know about the others or the ambush by the stadium. His thoughts about them were mainly of surprise, particularly when you spoke about the cars trying to run us down."

Bowing my head, I purse my lips for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "I know you don't approve of Daniel. That you have never liked him. But he was good to me; he made me _feel_ good. He made me feel comfortable letting go for just a little while; I could forget myself around him."

Edward is silent as we walk, denying nothing I have said. After a moment, his free hand comes to rest over the fingers I have tucked into his elbow. He leans toward me, his lips pressing lightly against the crown of my head.

"Did you hear anything about Victoria?" I hear a slight tremble in my voice, swallowing hard to control it.

Edward nods, his face becoming smooth as he recalls the overheard thoughts. "There were several trains of thought about Victoria. They seemed to indicate that she will fly south, either to Mexico City or Rio. I didn't hear anything about where she was flying from or when."

We enter the terminal, the slow rush of human activity flowing around us. "How do we know which thoughts are correct?" I ask, furrowing my brow.

"There were multiple thoughts pointing toward Rio," Edward admits reluctantly. "Including Daniel's thoughts."

"Daniel and Victoria know each other; it's reasonable to assume he might have some insight into her movements." I mentally shake myself to throw off the melancholy that has crept over me in the wake of Daniel's betrayal.

"It's a gamble, but we have to start somewhere," Edward says quietly, leading me toward the ticketing agents.

He catches me by surprise when he stops without warning, my feet taking another step before I stop as well. Edward's expression is guarded when I look at him, his face closing as he searches my face.

"You can go back now, Julia," he says somberly. "I gave you my word that I would not harm Daniel unless it was unavoidable. He is no longer in any danger; you don't need to feel obligated to continue traveling with me."

"I'm here to make sure both of you stay out of danger, as well as to help you track Victoria," I reply slowly, my eyes fixed on his. He nods, a mixture of reluctance and relief on his face, before I incline my head in the direction of the ticket agents once more. "I'm not ready to stop looking until we know where she is."

...

We scour the sprawling city for any trace of Victoria during those first weeks in Rio, sometimes splitting up to cover more ground. We search the city's various zones and the surrounding countryside, checking neighborhoods and beaches each evening, traversing miles of rainforest during the day. Edward scans the ever-present cloud of thoughts flying around him while I read the intentions of the vampires I cross, each of us searching for clues. There is nothing.

After a fortnight of ceaseless probing, Edward admits there is no trail in Rio. We know now that the vampires in Texas, including Daniel, have misled us. We were sent on a futile search in a country far from our own. Victoria is in the wind.

"They believed she was coming here," Edward whispers. We are standing on the deserted shore of Grumari beach, pale moonlight streaming over us as the surf licks the sand at our feet. "The others; they truly believed Victoria would be here."

He huffs a short, bitter laugh before turning to walk toward the city. "I'm sure she told them exactly what she wanted me to overhear."

From that point forward, Edward does not willingly leave the rented room in Dona Marta unless his panic forces him out to hide elsewhere.

Dusk has fallen over the favela. The humid air is teeming with the energy of thousands of residents crammed into the dwellings that ramble down the hillside. I have been coaxing Edward to hunt all day, my whispered words of encouragement going largely unanswered. Finally, he stirs, prompting me to rise. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking much as he did the night he turned up in front of my house in New Orleans. His elbows rest on his knees, his head and shoulders bow forward. He is gaunt and exhausted by his misery.

"You go, Julia," he murmurs at last. His voice is hushed, hardly registering over the hip-hop music and animated conversation from a nearby party. "I'll wait here."

Stepping forward, I reach out to stroke his wild hair, hoping to soothe him with my fingers. "This can't go on, Edward. I can't bear it. We should go back to the States. We can go back to Texas, start over tracking Victoria from there, if that's what you want to do."

"You should leave, Julia," he groans, leaning into my hand even as he pushes back with his words. "Go home; get back to your life. I don't want you to have to see me like this."

"And leave you here to rot in this room? I don't think so," I argue, working to keep frustration from overcoming my reason. "When I leave, you're coming with me, or at least going back to your family."

Edward shakes his head mulishly, sitting up to glare at me. "I've told you, I'm not going back. Staying away from Forks is the only way to keep Bella safe, to let her get on with living."

"But it doesn't have to be like this!" I step away from him to stare out the windows. The massive statue of Christ the Redeemer glows like a beacon on the peak above us, while the lights of the city gleam below.

"I'm sorry, but I simply cannot accept that this is only way. Does this seem right to you, Edward? Does falling to this level of self-mortification make you feel better about what Jasper did to that girl?"

With a hiss Edward is on his feet, staring balefully at me across the small space when I turn to face him. "I am the one that truly harmed Bella; Jasper was merely obeying instinct. Everything I did was done without foresight, Julia; everything I did was driven by my own selfishness."

He begins pacing in the tiny space, radiating fury as he continues ranting. " _I_ injured Bella, _I_ put her in danger repeatedly, _I_ caused her to doubt her own humanity, to want to be like me. I am responsible for her and will see to it that she is safe from the likes of our kind by any means necessary."

"Christ, you are so blind, Edward," I say with a groan, running my hands through my hair in exasperation. "Do you honestly think the girl would want to see you suffering like this? Would she welcome the knowledge that you are punishing yourself during every conscious moment?

"Would your suffering make her happy, Edward?" My voice grows venomous as I mock him, my face twisted in a sneer. "Or have you not had a moment to pause during this orgy of suffering to consider how the girl is faring? What if her suffering is equal to yours? What if her suffering is _worse_?"

"How dare you question my concern for Bella?" Edward is shouting, his black eyes flashing incredulously. "Everything I've done since leaving Forks has been out of consideration for her welfare-"

"Stop!" I cut in, taking a step toward Edward before I can stop myself. "You didn't answer my question. I want to know if you have even once considered that girl's _feelings_ , Edward. Not her safety, not her soul; I have had enough of your platitudes concerning both to last the duration of my eternal life. Have you not wondered how she felt after you discarded her? If, perhaps, she is broken or ready to give up living as you? Do you ever think about what you've done to the girl, Edward?"

"Her name is Bella!" he roars, moving in a flash to shove me against the flimsy plaster wall with a dull crunch.

Instantly, I am behind him, my teeth bared and crouching low to defend myself against his attack.

"I know her name," I grit out in a low, deadly voice. "If anything, I know more about that girl's feelings than you ever will. Unlike you, I know what it feels like to be left behind."

Turning his back on me, Edward buries his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving with anger.

"Get _out_ ," he says in a harsh whisper. "I don't care where you go, Julia, just get the hell out of here. I cannot bear another moment of your incessant prattle; it is driving me mad.

"Go back to Daniel, track him down, and make him a part of your life. It is time you found someone else to care for. I never lied to you. You know my feelings for you will never be what you want, will never amount to a _fraction_ of the way I feel for Bella."

An awful calm descends over me as I watch him struggling against himself.

"I'm not stupid, Edward," I reply, my voice deadened. "I've known you were out of my reach for a long time. Stop making this about me. Accept responsibility for this mess. Stop thinking solely of yourself and remember that this macabre charade affects others. Your family. Your friends. And yes, the girl, _Bella_. If you can't get your head on straight for your own sake, at least do it for them. Do it for her, if that's what it takes."

I turn to leave, unsure where I will go. I could step away for a few hours to allow our tempers to subside. Or I could keep moving until I reach the place where there is no more land beneath my feet.

"Julia." Edward's quiet voice is raspy in the heavy air of the room. I pause, but continue facing away from him, my eyes fixed on the door as he continues. "I know you're right. As much as it shames me to admit it, I really don't care about hurting anyone else. I am doing this to keep Bella safe, to protect her from me."

The sigh that escapes me is strained and I close my eyes against the tide of emotion swelling underneath my calm.

"What you have failed to realize is that you may be doing more harm with your absence," I reply. "The damage is done, Edward; you cannot erase yourself from anyone's life, no matter how hard you wish it so. You can tell yourself that she will forget you because she is human, but I don't think you truly believe that."

Edward is silent for a long time, the only sounds in the room coming from the humans outside the four thin walls surrounding us. "I don't know what to do," he murmurs at last, his voice dark with misery.

He is sitting on the bed again when I turn to look at him. An expression of overwhelming anguish creases his bone white face as he stares at me. Reading his intentions, I understand that he is still battling himself, unsure of the best course. Calmly, I cross the room to run my fingers over the nape of his neck.

"It's time to go home. Go back to Forks, Edward," I say softly before I leave the room, shutting the door quietly behind me.

Slipping outside, I sidle carefully past the humans that seem to clog every corner, making my way out of the favela. I step into the shadows of the surrounding woods, and run west to hunt in the enormous maze of the favela Rocinha. The fevered blood of the drug dealer I kill there soothes the fire in my throat but does nothing to quell the storm in my mind.

The blood's heat rushes through me as I conceal the body and run out of the hills toward Galeãoairport where I purchase airline tickets back to the States for late the following evening. I know the more difficult tasks still lie before me. Persuading Edward to hunt and change his clothes are daunting prospects, provided he doesn't simply run off when I tell him of my plans to fly him north. Then I'll have to get him on a plane.

As I do every time I leave Dona Marta alone, I climb the steep road winding up Corcovado. I pause at the peak under the figure of Christ the Redeemer, the colossal stone face gazing sadly down on the earth below. Walking to the furthest point of the platform around the statue, I perch on the railing, my legs hanging over the edge of the cliff. The snarl of emotions I have been ignoring fills my chest as I breathe in the smells of cedar, cinnamon, and palm rising from the surrounding rainforest.

I pull my knees in against my chin, gripped with shame to realize the thought of Edward in that squalid room sickens me. The idea of continuing to watch him fall apart fills my throat with sobs that I swallow, fixing my eyes on the cold constellations of city lights below. I can no longer watch his slow disintegration while doing nothing. When I get to my feet to make my way back toward Dona Marta, I have resolved to do anything to halt his downward spiral, regardless of the consequences to our friendship.

A chorus of agitated voices reaches my ears as I walk through the narrow streets toward Edward's building. Humans fill the hallway outside of his room, standing in the dim light spilling through the open doorway. I make my way through the figures, taking care to move slowly and shield their tender bodies from my hard limbs. The tide of Portuguese rises for a moment when the humans see me, falling to a hush as they allow me to pass. Bright, curious eyes watch as I slip through the door now hanging crookedly from broken hinges.

 _Jesus._ The room is a wreck, its contents in utter disarray. Gouges mark the cheap plaster walls, the few decorations and religious icons that hung on them lying shredded or smashed in the corners. The scant pieces of furniture lay in splinters on the floor, and the iron bed stand is crumpled against the wall like discarded paper. There is no sign of Edward or the meager belongings he brought to Rio.

My eyes flick around the room, taking in the damage, searching for any sign telling me where Edward has gone. Turning to leave, I recognize a man in the doorway as the landlord, his eyes angry and fearful as they move about the ruined room and back to me, not quite meeting my gaze. Quietly, I remove a wad of _real_ from my pocket; enough to cover at least one-month's rent as well as repairs to the room.

"Eu sinto muito, o senhor," I murmur softly, pausing at his side to press the notes into his hand, taking care not to touch his skin with mine. Like many humans, he instinctively shrinks from me as he nods in response. The blood drains from his cheeks and studies his feet closely. I don't need to read his intentions to know he will remain silent about what has gone on here tonight. My feet take me down the stairs and outside, leaving behind a heavy silence.

Walking back toward the woods, I cross a fresh scent trail of lilac and honey, and hasten to follow it through the warren of buildings and alleys. The trail leads deep into the heart of the favela, to a filthy attic crawl space too small to allow me to stand. While Edward's fresh scent is all over the cramped space, it is empty. Smears on the dusty floor made by long limbs are the only visible signs Edward was here.

Back on the street, I pull my phone from my pocket to dial Edward's number. The call goes straight to voicemail, the automated greeting sending a shiver of dread down my spine. Edward's phone is powered off or lost, perhaps lying in pieces in the room behind me. I end the call and tap out a number I have known for years but never used. The slow rings echo endlessly over the line and I hiss softly in frustration when I hear Carlisle's voicemail.

Ending the call, I dial another unused number. Almost at once, the call goes through, the deep voice on the other end sharp and urgent. "Edward?"

"It's Julia MacInnes, Emmett." I am instantly on guard when I hearing the agitation in his voice. "I'd like to speak with Carlisle, if I may."

"Oh, _Christ_ ," Emmett exclaims. "Carlisle is hunting; we can't reach him, Julia. Is Edward with you?"

I close my eyes to contain my growing alarm. "No, that's why I'm calling; he was with me, until just a few hours ago."

"What? Where are you?" The sound of excited voices in the background catches my ear.

"We're in Rio, we've been here for a little while now," I reply. "I left Edward to buy some airline tickets, to bring him back to the States. When I returned a short time ago he had gone."

"Oh, God." Emmett's pained groan stops me. "Julia, there was an accident with Bella."

My mouth falls open at his words, leaving me stunned for a moment before I fire back. "Does Edward know?"

"Yes. There was a misunderstanding and he knows only part of what happened. Bella is fine," Emmett hastens to explain.

"I don't understand; why would Edward leave if the girl is well?" I demand sharply.

"That's just it," Emmett replies, his voice filled with pain. "Edward doesn't know Bella is well; he thinks she is dead."

" _Oh_!" I gasp, my free hand rising to cup my throat as comprehension floods through me.

"We've tried to reach him, but it went through to voicemail each time," Emmett says rapidly. "The last time we called, someone picked up; they told us they'd found the phone in a trashcan."

I stand on the pavement, my free hand raking back my hair roughly. "Emmett, you don't think he would do anything rash -"

He cuts me off with a harsh whisper. "Yes, he would. We already know that he is planning to go to the Volturi." The sound of weeping is audible in the background.

" _Alice_ ," I hiss with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, she saw everything as soon as he made up his mind. Julia, you're there and it hasn't been that long since Alice called us; can you catch Edward before he boards the plane?" The desperation in Emmett's voice is clear.

"I'm heading to the airport now. I'll call when I know for sure one way or the other," I say rapidly, before moving into the shadows of an alley.

Pocketing my phone, I sprint with all the speed I can muster, my chest weighed down with despair. Despite my flashing feet, I know more than enough time has passed for Edward to slip out of Brazil. I fear that I am too late to prevent him from beginning the journey east into the night to orchestrate his own doom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emo vampires - gotta love 'em. We're in Italy next, naturally.
> 
> Thank you for reading and reviewing, if you leave one. 
> 
> This story is beginning to wind down - only a couple of regular chapters remaining and then some outtakes.
> 
> Notes: A favela is a Brazilian shantytown (ghetto, barrio). Dona Marta and Rocinha are favelas located in Rio de Janiero.
> 
> The real is Brazilian currency.
> 
> "Eu sinto muito,o senhor," is Portuguese for "I am sorry, sir," or so says Google. I don't speak Portuguese, so please excuse any unintentional butchering of what is a lovely language.
> 
> Stephenie Meyer's New Moon outtakes helped inspire the mood of the favela scene. As did the movie, of course.


	10. Chapter 9: Volterra, 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward's running amok in Italy, while Julia, Alice, and Bella try to head him off at the pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.

You figure there's time  
For a man to run  
You figure it's time  
For the falling stars to come down on us  
"Falling Stars" - UNKLE

The passage of time loses its gravity when one measures a lifetime in eternity. Without the specters of age and death, there is no need to mark each second as it passes, to organize them into minutes, hours, and days that stretch into months and years. Human lifetimes pass in the blink of an eye, with thousands of moments fraught with murky human emotions come and gone in an instant.

A frantic urgency I have never known fills the hours following Edward's flight from Dona Marta. A sick feeling grips me as I watch the minutes slide by. Each one bring closer the moment when Edward's fate is decided, while those of us left behind can only wait.

Sprinting through the humid evening toward Galeãoairport, I catch Edward's scent and follow it through the slowly shifting crowds of travelers to the main terminal. As I feared, he is nowhere to be found, and his trail disappears into an empty jetway. A glance at the arrivals and departures board tells me I have missed the most recent flight to Rome by at least an hour; Edward is gone.

I press the keys on my phone furiously, fighting the urge to grind my teeth while the call connects.

"I missed him," I say at once, speaking over Emmett's terse greeting. His sigh echoes over the line, forcing me to pace in an effort to defuse the anxiety crawling through me. "I won't be able to get a flight out of Rio for another two hours."

"Damn it," Emmett swears softly. The dejection in his voice tells me his spirits are sinking even as he tries to reassure me. "Alice and Bella are already in the air over Washington; with their connections, they should arrive in Volterra just ahead of you."

I stop short with a sharp intake of breath, appalled by the meaning behind his words. "That's the plan? Sending Alice and a _human_ into the Volturi stronghold?"

"Alice was very clear, Julia, and she insists we follow her instructions," Emmett replies. His words clipped with the effort of maintaining his composure. "If Edward hears any of us approach, even you, he'll do something rash. He'll do whatever it takes to push them into ripping him apart before we ever have a chance to speak with him."

"So you're proposing that we do nothing?" I ask, my eyes darting to the arrival and departures board to check the next flight times.

"We're allowing Alice to take the lead. She maintains that no one be allowed anywhere near Edward until she's had a chance to show him that Bella is alive." His voice wavers just slightly on the girl's name. I understand in that instant that Emmett is not entirely in agreement with the family's decision not to act.

The fear I have been cradling in my chest since discovering Edward's ruined room withers in the heat of a sudden rush of anger.

"That is the most idiotic thing I've ever heard. Has _every_ Cullen completely lost their reason tonight?" My low voice is harsh, drawing the attention of several curious humans.

"I understand what you're saying, Julia," Emmett replies quietly, the weariness in his voice cutting through the furious buzz in my head. His voice is lower still when he continues. "But you understandEdward as well as any of us; you know what he is capable of. Alice is right. He's far enough ahead at this point to be approaching Aro before anyone else even steps foot in Italy. You won't catch him before he makes his request, and if he knows you are there, he _will_ overreact. He'll think you are deliberately trying to mislead him."

I do not reply, knowing Emmett is right and despising him for it, Alice even more so. Understanding they are right, however, will not keep me from getting on the plane. Though Emmett says nothing, I feel certain he is aware of my intentions; what's more, I believe he approves.

"I understand, Emmett," I murmur before ending the call.

My phone chimes quietly with an incoming call as I am buying the airline ticket. The sight of Carlisle's number on the screen further taxes my exhausted patience. I move to stand by the windows inside the departure gate, and train my eyes on the waiting aircraft before accepting the call.

"What's going on, Carlisle? Has there been word from Edward?"

Carlisle's normally serene voice is rough with tension. "I'm afraid not. I'm calling out of concern for your welfare, actually, Julia. Alice believes that you will be making the journey to Volterra despite her warning. I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to get on that plane."

I am silent for a moment, blinking with surprise. Inserting the tip of my tongue between my front teeth, I bite down firmly in an effort to still the flood of words threatening to overwhelm me. "With all due respect, Carlisle, there's not much you can do to stop me," I reply politely when I trust myself to speak.

"Regardless of that very obvious fact, I would like to ask you to stay away from Volterra entirely." I realize Carlisle is appealing to the cautious side of my nature. He is unaware that tonight I have abandoned all prudence and forethought.

"I don't understand what harm it will do for me to be there," I say with a sigh, rubbing my fingers over the nape of my neck in frustration. "Emmett has already told me Alice's concerns, and I will take care to heed them."

"For the moment, I am not speaking of Edward," he replies quietly. "Julia, do you understand that entering the Volturi domain under these circumstances puts your life at risk?"

I close my eyes as the sentiment behind Carlisle's words hit home; his kindness toward me during these moments of extreme concern for his son is devastating.

"I have considered the risks, yes," I admit gently.

"I am speaking for Edward and the rest of my family when I tell you that you _must_ put your own safety first." Carlisle's voice is dark with sorrow, but firm, and I hear the father that has influenced Edward so deeply over the years. "The idea that you would be harmed standing in place for our family is unconscionable."

"I appreciate your concern, Carlisle, more than you realize," I reply with a sad smile, amused and exasperated by the trademark Cullen obstinance. "But at the risk of repeating myself, you can't stop me from getting on that plane. Two of your family will almost certainly risk their lives tomorrow, Carlisle; I have to try. At the very least, I might be of help to Alice should Edward's plan succeed."

Carlisle is silent for some time and obviously conflicted; the increased chances of saving one or both of his children appeal to him strongly.

"All right then," he replies with extreme reluctance. "If Edward cannot be saved, perhaps something can be done for Alice and Bella."

 _Bella._ The mention of the girl's name sparks the rage inside me. I cannot grasp how the introduction of a single, frail human has brought such calamity to Edward's life and mine. My lips pull back in a silent snarl over teeth that are wet with venom. Despite the chaos of these past hours and the uncertainty ahead, I know one thing: if Edward dies in Volterra, I will stop at nothing to destroy the human girl.

"I'll do whatever I am able for both of them," I lie softly to Carlisle, watching my reflection's cold smile in the window.

I play a game of waiting. Waiting to board the flight out of Brazil with a baseball cap purchased from the duty free tucked in my pocket. Waiting in the confines of the airplane cabin as the night deepens and the humans slumber around me. Waiting while dawn breaks and the plane touches down in Rome. Waiting to I steal a car to race into the brilliant and treacherous Tuscan sun toward Volterra. Waiting for word of Edward's fate.

Hills and fields made barren by winter blur by as I urge the car forward, bypassing the traffic on the motorway. The sun is overhead when I park outside of the city's gate, which has been decorated to celebrate a feast day. The place is teeming with humans clad in red cloaks. The deep toll of bells echoes over the noise of the crowds as I step under the ancient portcullis, and pull the brim of my cap down low over my face. My phone chimes when I move into the deep shadows inside the city walls, and I look down to see a text from Alice.

_**The clock tower in the Palazzo - he's seen her.** _

A long, stuttering breath comes from me with the realization that while Edward is no longer a danger to himself, the Volturi guard pose an imminent threat to his life. I use the back alleys to run, winding behind the city to bypass the throngs of humans congesting the narrow streets. As I dart around corners, I don't quite dare to hope that I can also avoid members of the guard.

 _There._ The palazzo opens in front of me, flooded with blazing sunlight. The humans move in vast waves of crimson clothes, their banners swirling in the cold wind. And there, through the crush of bodies and almost out of sight in the alley opposite me, I see them. Flanked by three cloaked members of the guard, Edward and Alice stand with the human girl, her frail body wrapped in Edward's protective embrace. The girl is pale and drawn, her whole being clearly marked by the misery Edward unwittingly inflicted on her when he left Forks. Yet, her face is ablaze with an astonishing mixture of terror and joy. There is also a strange defiance in her expression and posture as she stares at the cloaked figures, as if she is willing to fight. After a moment, the group moves further into the shadows of the alley, and away from the legion of curious eyes in the palazzo.

I continue to make my way toward them through the maze behind the buildings, skirting the edges of the sunlight pouring over the walls. I cross into a stream of scent trails just as Edward's voice rings out quite close by, freezing me in my tracks.

"It's all right, Bella, Alice will catch you," he says in reassuring tones.

Pressing tightly against the wall to my left, I peer around the corner of the building in time to see Edward lowering the girl into a drain in the street. Two of the guards, whom I recognize as Demetri and Felix from their scents, stand at Edward's sides. Alice and the third guard are already underground and out of sight.

For a fraction of a second before he steps into the drain, Edward's eyes meet mine, shining with life for the first time since he approached me in New Orleans. The seconds I have to read Edward's intentions tell me that, whatever fear he may have for the human girl's safety, his descent into madness and despair has halted. Emerging in its place is the shrewd intelligence I know, and an overwhelming determination to ensure the girl's survival.

I turn away the instant Edward disappears, and make my way back through the city. I race out of reach of the guard, who have been summoned by their masters to observe the consequences of the spectacle Edward nearly presented today.

I seek shelter from the sun in the stolen car, and exchange text after text with Emmett, unable to tell him anything other than what has already happened. Edward is alive for the moment; once again, all that is left is the waiting.

Dusk has fallen when I pull the cap off and leave the confines of the car. On impulse, I run to the far side of the city perimeter through winter air stirred by strong winds. Vestiges of the setting sun stain the sienna walls a deeper red, and the age-softened stone makes it almost too easy to climb. I reach the top of the wall and take a moment to sit, swinging my legs over the edge to rest against the stone walkway. My presence will not go ignored a second time.

"You know where the gate is, Julia. You made use of it this afternoon." There is an undercurrent of amusement in Demetri's voice as his polite words float over the darkness. "These are hardly medieval times; you needn't scale the walls."

"I'm American. I've always had a misplaced sense of adventure," I reply with a shrug that draws a chuckle from Demetri and nothing from the massive figure standing a few paces back.

"If you're here about the young Cullens, you're already too late," Felix says quietly, a subtle, unmistakable menace in his voice. His dark cape flaps quietly in the breeze as he steps closer.

"Too late?" I murmur, digging my fingers deeply into the stone of the wall beneath me.

"You misunderstand Felix," Demetri replies softly, directing a glance over his shoulder at his comrade. "As I'm sure you are aware, my masters held an audience with the Cullens and their human this afternoon. They'll be leaving the city within the next few hours."

The moonlight is bright in Demetri's large, beautiful eyes. They are a brilliant crimson, vivid with the blood of a fresh kill still lingering on lips. I study his impassive expression before speaking again. "They will be allowed to leave, I presume?"

"My masters rendered their decision." Demetri nods easily, holding my eyes with his gaze. "The Cullens have confirmed that the girl will not remain human for very long, and that is a condition that satisfies everyone."

Knowing Edward's opinions on the girl's mortal state, it takes effort to keep my expression neutral. There is no way Edward has pledged the girl's mortality without several avenues of diversion planned. I wonder how long he will be able to evade what seems inevitable.

"Julia, why are you here?" Demetri's expression is at once curious and knowing.

After a moment, I answer honestly. "I would answer that question if I could, Demetri."

He nods, turning his gaze over my shoulder to the silent countryside. "You must realize that you cannot change Edward's fate, no matter how hard you try. No more than you can change your own fate; the die has been cast."

"I have no desire to change anyone's fate; I know quite well that such a thing is not possible." I hold his gaze when Demetri's eyes meet mine. He takes another step closer, his lush linen and amber scent rolling over my tongue. I want, not for the first time, to understand him. I also recognize the danger inherent in the impulse.

"Unless I am mistaken, you haven't the ability to ascertain neither my fate nor that of anyone else."

"Indeed not." He chuckles. "I've simply had enough time during the last millennia to come to understand that fate is immutable, much like our kind. Perhaps even more so."

"And perhaps less so," I offer, amused by Demetri's good-natured shrug.

The toll of the clock tower in the palazzo sounds again, rolling over us and prompting an increase in the sounds of celebration from the humans. As if on cue, Demetri steps back to stand at Felix's side, his expression growing blank once more.

"Cullen and the others will be leaving the city shortly," Felix remarks, a sneer just audible in his soft voice.

"We would prefer you use the gate this time, Julia," Demetri adds. "The moon is bright tonight and this particular feast makes the humans more observant than usual. Saint Marcus seems to inspire vampire hunter fantasies."

"They'd rather be victims," I reply, stepping toward the staircase with a glance over my shoulder. "Good evening, gentlemen."

"I'm sure we'll see each other again soon, Julia. Until then, you would do well to remember our conversation about fate," Demetri says softly, his dark cloak swirling in the wind.

I make my way carefully through the crowds. I smile grimly at the humans' high spirits and costumes, and the way their plastic fangs gleam strangely under the streetlights. I recognize Alice's scent in a trail of lavender and chocolate, and follow it to a dark alcove where two small bags are hidden. The bags smell strongly of freesia and the salty tang of the human girl's blood. Seized with curiosity, I press the smaller bag to my face and inhale. _Sweet Jesus._ I bite back a humorless laugh at the thought of Edward willingly subjecting himself to this intoxicating smell with no hope of release. The intensity of the girl's scent causes my head to swirl briefly and I swallow the venom that floods my mouth. I am composed when I meet Alice's wide-eyed gaze a few moments later.

"You're safe," Alice says as I hand her the bags, a smile spreading over her beautiful face. "You know I'm grateful, Julia, but you are far crazier than even Edward realized to follow us here."

"Running a fool's errand to the Volturi with a human at your side isn't exactly sane, Alice," I reply in a dry tone.

"Yes, well, my brother does seem to provoke extreme behaviors in those who love him," she says, giving a small sigh as she meets my gaze. "He's heading out of the city now. Bella has been... well, a bit hysterical, but that's to be expected. And I daresay, Edward is chastened for once, but I'm sure that won't last long."

An intense and delayed sense of relief briefly overwhelms my anger at Edward. I push the hair away from my face with trembling hands, and try to hide them in my pockets before they betray me. Before I can, Alice reaches to brush the back of my right hand with her slim fingers.

"We're leaving for Florence immediately," she says, her expression becoming tentative. "I just need to steal another car. Why don't you travel with us, Julia?"

"No," I reply at once with a shake of my head. "It's not a good idea for me to share an enclosed space with Edward right now. There are too many things I want to say, none of them kind. I am not to be trusted around him at the moment. Or the girl."

"Bella is safe from you," Alice says casually, drawing the bags onto her shoulder.

I know she and Edward will protect the girl, and shield her from my rage. I also understand that too many of my emotional limits have been surpassed in the last several weeks, leaving me raw and volatile. I am not ready to face Edward yet, particularly in the confines of a car or plane.

Alice's expression grows concerned as she studies me, her little face tilted up toward mine. "You'll forgive him eventually, won't you?"

"I'm not sure, Alice," I admit.

"Come back to Washington before you make a decision. Talk to him," she urges, holding my gaze steadily.

I nod after a moment, still undecided. My need to withdraw is strong. The walls I have been building around my dead heart are weakened. My feelings for Edward and his family are too strong.

"Tell me," Alice says curiously. "If Bella and I had been too late to save Edward, what were you planning to do?"

"I told Carlisle I would try to help you out of Volterra," I murmur. "I thought... I felt that if I could do nothing else, I owed your father that. I owe Edward that."

For a moment, Alice grasps the fingers of my hand, and a peculiar mix of sorrow and kindness crosses her face. With a shrug, I press the keys to the stolen car into her hand and step back, giving her a moment to go ahead before I follow.

Edward is leading the girl toward the car when I pass through the gate, tenderly helping her into the backseat. In the moment before he slides in next to her, his eyes meet mine. This time I see a plea for understanding in their black depths as I stare him down, and a troubled crease appears between his brows before I turn away.

I take my time returning to Washington after arriving back in the States. I fly to Los Angeles and spend several weeks in the silent house where Daniel's scent lingers. In the evenings, I sit in clubs listening to bands and talking with my human acquaintances, politely refusing requests to take a turn onstage. I walk for hours on the beaches, following the coast north with the crashing tides of the Pacific for company. I hunt bear in the massive forests outside of the city, and grin when I remember Edward's stories of his hunting adventures with Emmett.

Sitting in a café one night with my ex-band mates, I smile as they talk excitedly of their work in the studio. When I glance toward the bar, I see a familiar figure angled my way. Crimson eyes gaze at me through cigarette smoke, and a shock of salt and pepper hair gleams in the dim light. I hold Daniel's gaze for a long minute before a sad smile graces his lips. He nods once, and turns to go before I think to respond in any way.

Much later that night, my phone chimes with an incoming message. I am not surprised when I see Daniel's name on the screen.

_**I'd like to talk, if you'll let me.** _

I tuck my phone in my pocket and sit at the piano, wishing my cello were not across the country in New Orleans. The dawn's gray light slowly illuminates the room as my fingers run through Handel's Keyboard Suite No. 2, filling the air with an aching loveliness. Longing surprises me as I play, and makes me wish for the chaotic green wilderness of the Olympic Park and my complicated, infuriating friend, Edward.

I leave the city at sunset that evening, driving the rented car north up Highway 101 through the night. It is early morning when I park on an old logging road with a smile, and wonder if the last car I abandoned in Forks is still hidden by the forest.

The city of Forks is enjoying a rare sunny spring day and I know the Cullens will stay close to home, avoiding contact with humans. The notes from one of Edward's lovely and intricate compositions echo through the trees as I approach their dwelling. As always, I am mindful of the perimeter around the property, keeping to the edges of the meadow surrounding the great white house. Today, however, I pause by the trunk of a massive maple at the back of the house, allowing myself to hear the voices of the inhabitants. Movement in the glass wall catches my eye, and I recognize Emmett's massive frame. His hand lifts in greeting at the same moment Edward stops playing, and I return the wave before turning once more to run into the woods.

I stop by the old stone bench to wait for Edward, sitting to run my fingers over the velvety fronds of young ferns while birdsongs pierce the air. It is not long before a pair of long legs is standing in front of me, and a familiar scent mixes with the rich smell of the spruce surrounding us.

I raise my eyes to meet Edward's, warm gold and bright once more. He is dressed to blend in with the human teenagers, wearing dark jeans and a grey button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow. His hair is the mess it always is when he is composing and, though his expression is tentative, even fearful, Edward is beautiful. The haunted expression he wore during the days we tracked Victoria is gone; his eyes are keen and shining.

"Before you berate me for not returning your calls-" I begin, sighing when Edward interrupts me almost at once.

"And showing up announced, yet again," he cuts in teasingly, the beginnings of a soft smile on his lips. "You gave Emmett quite a turn, by the way. He nearly went right through the window before he recognized you."

"It's nice to know I haven't lost my edge," I reply quietly, cocking my head to one side as I look up at Edward. "My poor manners aside, I would like to remind you that I am still wildly angry with you, Edward."

The playful gleam in his eyes fades as he absorbs the seriousness of my words and mood. We watch each other for a long time in silence, Edward's face growing troubled. With a sigh, he gestures to the space beside me on the stone bench, flashing me a grateful look when I make room for him to sit.

"How could you, Edward?" The depth of the pain I hear in my voice surprises me. I find I cannot bear to look at him, and a deep ache spreads through me when he lets out a long breath.

"I think I have some idea of how you were feeling when you thought the girl was gone," I say softly. "When Miranda disappeared, it felt as though my world was ending. I understand that you were grieving, Edward, I truly do. But to seek to end your life?" My voice cracks on the last words and I pull my legs in against my chest, closing myself off and resting my chin on top of my knees.

"I realize that apologies are not nearly enough to make up for what I put you through." Edward's voice is low and unbearably earnest. "Not only when I ran to Italy, but before as well. When we were tracking and then in Rio... my behavior was inexcusable, Julia. Looking back at those weeks, I know I don't deserve the friendship you gave to me."

"I'm inclined to agree, actually," I reply, meeting his gaze.

His eyes are burning with sadness when he nods and murmurs, "Can you forgive me?"

I am silent for a few moments, frowning deeply before I reply. "It's going to take some time. I'd like to think so."

Edward's jaw tightens with my words, his lips pressing into a hard line. One hand rises to run through his hair, and his eyes shift down to study the ground under his feet. The stillness of the forest thickens as the minutes pass. The things I want to say to Edward catch in my throat while I watch his unhappiness mount.

"Is the damage I've caused between us irreparable?" His whispered words are loud as he raises his eyes at last, his hands dropping to rest in his lap.

"You made me realize that you are willing to remove yourself from this world, Edward." I shake my head when he opens his mouth to interrupt. "I always thought that, while I'd never have your heart, I could at least count on you to be there as my friend. It would seem that I can't count on that anymore."

"You have to know I'll never act so rashly again," Edward says in protest. "I shouldn't have run without getting some kind of confirmation, I know that now."

"But what will you do when the girl's life runs its course, Edward?" I ask with a sad smile. "Despite what you told the Volturi that evening, I know you well enough to understand you'd _rather_ die yourself than change her. If you follow this course, one day she will be no more... and then _you_ will be gone."

Edward's face falls as he shakes his head. "I suspect there's little I can do to prevent her from being changed," he murmurs, a pained expression growing in his eyes. "At this point... I believe that Bella becoming one of us is inevitable, regardless of my feelings on the subject."

The intentions I read from Edward do not surprise me, though I suspect he may still be denying them. "You want her changed," I whisper. "You are ashamed to admit it, but you want her to be one of us."

Edward's eyes slide closed, misery rolling off him and his silence acting as confirmation. Wordlessly, I slide my legs back down, reaching to run one hand slowly from his elbow to wrist, spreading my fingers across the back of his hand. Edward's eyes flutter open, shining deep gold as they flick from our hands to my face.

"Thank you for always being honest with me." Edward's voice is husky with emotion. "Today, in Rio, in New Orleans; for all the years I've known you. You've never hesitated to tell me the truth, even when the words are difficult for me to hear. Even when it is even more difficult for you to speak, you never hold back. Alice is right; you're so brave, Julia, far more so that I have ever needed to be."

I shake my head, my lips curling up in a small smile. "There are different kinds of courage, Edward; you taught me that. You want to do the right things, despite the risk of adverse consequence, and that is incredibly brave. Moral courage is far less common and much more difficult to embrace. You are stronger than you realize."

Edward says nothing in response, his face growing thoughtful as he considers my words and we watch each other. The sun makes its way slowly overhead, the light filtering through spaces in the canopy above us and refracting against our skin in tiny, brilliant rainbows.

Without a word, Edward lifts his hand to my face and runs one long finger over my right eyebrow before dropping to meet our joined hands on in his lap. His expression is sad when he speak next. "Why does this feel like a goodbye?"

"Edward," I begin with a sigh. "Have you told the girl about me? That you and I are friends?"

"No, not yet," he admits with reluctance.

" _That_ feels a bit like goodbye to me," I reply, unable to keep from smirking though his admission stings. I know, more clearly than ever, that there is little room for me in Edward's world now that the human girl has entered it.

Edward shakes his head firmly as he hears my thoughts, tightening his hold on my hand as his face becomes troubled. "I do plan to tell Bella about you, Julia, I always have."

"I don't quite believe you," I retort softly, my free hand lifting to ghost a finger over his jaw.

"It's true, Julia," he replies. Edward's face and voice fill with a quiet urgency as he speaks. "When Bella and I first became involved, you were not speaking to me. And since my departure and the confrontation in Volterra... there just hasn't been a right time. Bella is not entirely secure in our relationship at the moment, and rightfully so. I have made her emotionally vulnerable."

"She expects you to disappear again," I surmise, nodding when Edward's eyes light up with relief at my understanding.

"Yes, very much so. And that is entirely my fault," he says. "Right now, I'm just not sure how to explain who you are and how we have known each other for so long. That we lived in the same house in New York and then Boston, that I invited you to join the family." He breaks off, lifting a hand to rub his forehead distractedly. "I can't even begin to understand how to explain that we were hunting Victoria together."

"You told her you were tracking alone?" I ask warily, concern drawing my brows together.

"No. I let her _assume_ I was tracking alone," Edward admits sheepishly.

"Edward," I groan. "What are you thinking? You are dragging your whole family into the deception with you as well. You really don't have an ounce of common sense."

"Believe me, I agree," he replies. A grin brightens his face before he grows serious once more. "I will tell her about you, Julia, I just need to be sure she trusts me again."

"It's not all that important, Edward," I say lightly. "It's not as if she and I will be spending any time together. But keeping things from her doesn't seem particularly wise; you'll have a long road ahead if you continue to lie by omission."

"I only keep her from things that will hurt her," he says stubbornly, a scowl marring his lovely face for a moment.

"You need to face the fact that there is always the possibility of something hurting her, Edward," I murmur in reply, squeezing his hand to lessen the blow of my words. "You hurt her every time you deceive her."

"I know you're right. But I'll always try to spare her, if I'm able, and protect her."

"From what you tell me, the girl does seem to lead an extraordinarily unlucky existence."

"You have no idea just how apt that statement is," Edward says, his expression growing dark with rage. "Victoria was spotted here in Forks, you know, while you and I were in Rio. She played me perfectly, distracting me and all the while planning to come here after Bella."

"You're here with her now," I reply quietly. "You'll keep her safe."

We are quiet for a time while Edward's eyes fix on mine. I know he is looking at their dark amber color, which is a result of my recent intake of animal blood.

"Have you spoken with Daniel?" Edward's face is tense, though his effort to remain calm is evident in his composed voice.

"Not yet. I saw him in Los Angeles for a moment a few nights ago, but we did not speak," I say, making my own effort to control my emotions. "He reached out to me. And I would like to talk to him again, to hear what he has to say."

"I'm not entirely sure I agree with you, but I'm not surprised that you're giving him a chance," Edward says with only a hint of rancor, his mouth quirking up in a crooked smile. "You've given me many more chances than I deserved, after all."

With immense care, he winds his arms around my waist, gently drawing me closer to him. After a moment, I mirror his movements, threading my arms under his and relaxing against his shoulder. Edward's chin comes to rest on my hairline when I let my head fall against his long neck, the hush of the forest rising around us.

"You'll be careful, won't you?" Edward murmurs finally, his lips moving against my hair. "You'll be careful when you speak to Daniel?"

"He poses no risk to me," I reply, scoffing gently. "But yes, I'll be careful."

The twilight deepens into dusk, and the fading light provides enough cover for Edward to go amongst the humans without fear of discovery. As darkness falls, I realize he is putting off going to the girl in order to extend his time with me for a few moments longer. He stirs at last, breathing a small sigh as we stand, and flashing me a smile that I cannot help returning. We run easily between the dark trees, Edward darting ahead playfully before dropping back to allow me to catch up. It's not long before we stop beneath the cedars sheltering the Cullen home.

"I'm guessing you'll be going underground for a while," Edward says, his face growing wistful as he looks at me.

"For a while." My fingers brush against the back of his hand. "I'm leaving L.A., I think. I'll find music to play, photos to take, maybe even some bridges to climb. I need to find some parts of myself that have become lost."

Edward drops his eyes, and his expression becomes deeply serious. He seems to be struggling to find words and I see him swallow once before he looks at me again, his eyes bright with shame.

"What is it?" I ask, concern bubbling in my chest.

"In Rio... I shouldn't have said those things to you, Julia," he murmurs, the corners of his mouth turning down. "When I told you to get out. That I don't care about you."

I watch him for a moment before speaking, my voice low, but kind. "I think each of us has said things to each other in the past year that should have been left unsaid."

Edward nods slowly, reaching to take my hands in his. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too." I step closer to press a soft kiss on his cheek, closing my eyes when Edward drops my hands to slide his arms around me. I allow myself to sink into his embrace for a moment, pulling him close to rest my cheek against his shoulder.

"Don't disappear for too long," Edward whispers, his lips ghosting the bridge of my nose, and the sweet smell of his breath fanning over my face.

We step away from each other; our fingers somehow still entwined before the distance forces them apart. We leave unsaid the words that have failed us so often in the past. Instead, we share a smile over the space separating us before I turn to run into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sigh* This chapter makes me yearn for their hunting human days of yore. Next chapter, Edward will seek out Julia; he's got some stuff to say.
> 
> There are two more regular chapters remaining and then some outtakes. 
> 
> Note: I'm quoting New Moon when Edward reassures Bella before dropping her into the drain in Volterra.


	11. Chapter 10: Vancouver, 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward tracks down Julia; he's got some stuff to that needs saying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.

Battle scars and neon lights  
She holds the flame, she owns the night  
And she's gone...  
My soul  
"The Healing" - UNKLE

It is easy to find a measure of peace in the city of Vancouver. There are endless daytime diversions in the libraries and museums, while the nightclubs and theaters beckon during the evening hours. The photographs I take are among my most poignant, capturing small moments of human fragility. Music once more pours from my cello, and echoes softly through my rented loft space on Keefer Street. In a fit of indulgence, I buy a sleek, powerful car that flies over the roadways, taking delight in the throaty purr of the engine.

I spend the deepest hours of the night exploring the city's architecture, wandering the silent, shining towers while the humans slumber. When the need for blood overtakes me, I seek out the silence of the massive parks and wilderness areas of the north to hunt. Occasionally, I scale the Lion's Gate Bridge to watch the slow progress of the freighters at the port, while the sky and sea change color with the hours.

Edward is in my thoughts often. Despite my plans to go off the grid following our last conversation in Forks, something I cannot quite name makes me reluctant to unplug completely. A month after arriving in Canada, I send Edward a text message with my address, and smile at the absurdity of his one word reply.

_**Swimmable.** _

The crowds are thick as we make our way toward the cluster of rock clubs at the north end of Granville Street. Neon billboards advertise the different venues color the crisp air, and the voices of the humans moving around us hum and shift. Daniel's hand trails the small of my back as we walk with a light and teasing touch. We are dressed casually in jeans and T-shirts topped with leather jackets, each item of clothing luxurious but modest. Our movements and demeanor are similarly reserved yet we draw the attention of many we pass. The unsettling gleam in our eyes and the impossible harmony of our faces is difficult to ignore. This indefinable glamour persuades club bouncers to wave us past the lines and into VIP areas where dazed patrons clamor to buy us cocktails. The attention never fails to delight Daniel.

"It really is too bad we can't drink," he murmurs as we climb the narrow staircase of the club we have chosen.

I wrinkle my nose at him mockingly. "You'd be a permanent fixture in rehab."

"Oh, such a glass half-empty girl," Daniel scolds, chuckling when I roll my eyes at him.

The bands playing are even better than I had hoped and the music thundering through the small venue transports the crowd with its power. Soft limbs tangle in the scrum of humans at the front of the stage, and their sweet, hot smell washes over me. I linger at the edges, ever cautious of their fragility. I am content to let the vibrations of the music thrum through my body, closing my eyes as I shake my head in time to the crashing rhythms.

There is no warning before Daniel's hands slide across my hips, carefully moving me deeper into the thrashing crowd. For a few minutes, I almost surrender, letting myself be drawn by the thumping pull of the music. Daniel presses against my back, molding himself against me as we move together, and his throaty laughter is low in my ear. But the humans are too frenzied in their movements; breaking their bones with a careless movement would be far too easy. Gently, I ease Daniel away from the crowd, nudging him toward the bar with a smile as his lovely lips push out in a pout.

Narrowing my amber eyes playfully, I guide Daniel to a bank of chairs in a dimly lit corner that is nearly empty of tender bodies. "Always begging for trouble," I murmur as I push him down on to the cushions, and erupting in laughter when he drags me down onto his lap.

His smile wide, Daniel leans in to press his lips delicately to the underside of my jaw, ghosting his nose along my cheek with an appreciative hum. He winds his arms around me and gathers me close to bury his face in my neck. My grin is lazy and my eyes close while Daniel's lips move against my throat. I place my hand against his chest when my breath hitches in my throat, needing to create some space between us. When I open my eyes to meet his gaze, his crimson eyes are serious and his lips are hovering just millimeters from mine.

"Come on, sweetheart; I miss you." Daniel's breath is sweet, drifting like smoke over my skin.

"We've seen each other nearly every day since you followed me here a month ago," I reply quietly, one side of my mouth quirking up. "I should think you'd be very tired of me by now."

"I'm far from tired of you, Julia," Daniel says, his right hand rising to stroke my cheekbone with the backs of his fingers.

A flicker of movement catches my eye just as a trace of lilac and honey hits my nose. I glance toward the bar in time to see a tall, familiar figure walking away. There is enough light to make out the riot of hair on his head, the bronze highlights instantly recognizable. _Edward._

"What the hell is he doing here?" Daniel asks. His eyes are on the retreating figure and his voice is stiff but controlled. Daniel is more than adept at compartmentalizing his intense dislike for the Cullens and Edward in particular.

"I'm not sure," I reply, my brow furrowed. "He didn't send word he'd be here."

The words are no sooner out of my mouth than I am drawing back, moving out of Daniel's embrace. I squeeze his hands as I get to my feet, giving him an apologetic smile when he lets out a long breath.

"He doesn't usually seek me out like this unless he needs to talk," I murmur.

"It's fine." Daniel stands, rubbing my shoulders with a resigned expression. He watches me closely until, almost reluctantly, his lips lift in a smile.

Outside, I follow Edward's scent over two blocks only to round the corner as his silver car peels out of a parking lot. Bewildered, I pull my phone from my pocket, fingers flying as I pick out a message.

_**Why are you leaving?** _

Edward's reply is immediate and no less confusing than his behavior in the club.

_**It's nothing - I should have called first.** _

Pursing my lips, I compose another message and begin walking in the direction of Chinatown and the lot where I keep my car.

_**I'm here now, Edward - let's talk.** _

Edward's reply is slightly slower in coming, but does little to explain his abrupt departure.

_**It's okay - we can talk next time you're in LA.** _

I pocket my phone with a sigh, and glance up to meet Daniel's eyes as he falls into step with me. His expression is carefully neutral.

"Edward left... without speaking to me," I say, running a hand through my hair. "This is very unlike him."

Daniel does not reply, though his shoulders move in a shrug before he slings his right arm around my neck with a reassuring squeeze. A sense of uneasiness grows in my chest as we walk, and I ignore the feeling of Daniel's gaze on the side of my face.

"You're going after him," Daniel says when I meet his eyes. His tone is definitive rather than questioning.

"Neither of us has ever walked away like that without speaking," I reply quietly. "Not since our first meeting almost ninety years ago. I need to find out what is going on."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Daniel asks. His eyes and smile are almost kind, surprising me.

Stopping, I shrug out from under Daniel's arm to take his hands in mine and smile softly at him. "You're only asking because you want to drive my car."

Daniel throws his head back, and his laughter rings beautifully through the air. Nodding, he leans to press a kiss to my cheek, surrounding me with the scents of bergamot and anise.

"Clever girl," he says, his eyes bright with desire when I press my lips in front of his ear. His grin is wide when he turns back in the direction of the club with a wave.

I pick up the car and drive south out of Vancouver, crossing the border into the States when BC-99 becomes I-5. Under my hands, the car's powerful engine makes short work of the light traffic, more than halving the travel time into Washington. I bypass the ferries in Seattle and loop north on to Route 101 after Olympia, watching the outline of the Olympic Mountains to the west.

I park the car north of Forks, on a Park Service road running parallel to the Sol Duc River. Rain is falling lightly as I duck into the woods, the drops pattering against the canopy overhead. The forest is at its most lush in the mild summer weather. A thick blanket of moss and curling vines lies over most surfaces and the tree trunks seem to burst through the morass.

Following the river for about a mile, I pause, sensing something amongst the trees. I train my eyes into the gloom behind me, listening to the thick silence that is broken only by the sound of the river. Without warning, a choking stench like rancid grease and wet fur fills my nose and throat. My lips pull back from my teeth when I pick out a pair of glittering eyes from amongst the trees. The massive, crouching animal lets loose a feral rumbling, and second and third sets of eyes appear at its sides. A low growl builds in my throat as I stare at a phalanx of menacing wolves, their heavy bodies trembling with anticipation. _What have we here?_

I am outnumbered, and understand immediately that my only option is to outrun the wolves. Lowering my head, I pin my eyes on the beasts' every move, coolly analyzing their body language. My body is already moving when the lead wolf springs forward with a guttural roar. My feet flash over the forest floor along the edge of the river gorge, outpacing the wolves easily. Their jaws snap harmlessly behind me as we run, and I hear them growling as if to each other. As I run, I realize they will continue the pursuit until a physical barrier prevents them from following. I begin plotting a new path when movement across the gorge catches my eye.

"Julia!" Edward face is pale and serious as he flies along the other side of the gorge.

Without another thought, I launch myself into the air, sailing easily over the water as the snarling behind me increases in volume. In a moment, I am standing on the opposite bank at Edward's side. His hand moves at once to grasp my right elbow, and he levels a stern look over the river at the suddenly silent animals.

"This female is known to my family," Edward says, addressing the wolves in a formal tone. "She is aware of the boundaries and rules set forth by the treaty. When she chooses to leave, we will escort her out of Forks to prevent any further misunderstandings."

The lead wolf, a monstrous creature with impossibly thick black fur, steps forward, his eyes sparkling as he stares directly at Edward. After a moment, Edward gives the smallest of nods before turning to guide me away. The wolves are watching our departure when I glance over my shoulder, appearing almost to be standing guard.

After the sound of the river has faded behind us, Edward drops my elbow to take my hand, tugging once on my fingers before breaking into a run. We race south into the park, weaving around the dark trees and brush. Edward seems distant and lost in thought as he runs, silently guiding our progress with casual precision. The terrain grows impossibly thicker as we enter the rainforest, and the ancient spruce and maples are draped in hanging moss dripping with moisture.

At last, we slow to a stop at the edge of a large pond, its surface stippled by the drops falling from the trees above. Edward turns to offer me a cautious smile, his golden eyes bright as he nervously stuffs his hands in his pockets. Like me, he is dressed casually but expensively, wearing dark jeans and a black pullover. His hair is damp from the rain, and there is wry expression on his lovely face.

"At the risk of sounding like an overprotective idiot, you really should have called ahead tonight, Julia."

"Had I known Forks was suffering from a werewolf infestation, Edward, I might have done just that," I deadpan, unable to stop from raising an eyebrow. "Considering your behavior at the club tonight, however, you can see why I chose not to call."

"I'm sorry about that," Edward murmurs with a frown. "It was childish of me to leave after you asked me to stay."

I say nothing in reply, shrugging one shoulder as I pass by him to look over the water at our feet. Edward's face is still pensive when I turn to face him. "Did Alice tell you I was here?"

"She called when she saw you make the decision to follow me," he says with a nod. "She called again when she saw where you were hiding your car. I was on my way to intercept you when I heard your thoughts; and the wolves' thoughts."

"You can hear them," I say with quiet wonder. "Are you going to explain why I was being chased by wolves the size of Holsteins?"

Edward sighs, turning his gaze over the water. "My family has been aware of the presence of the wolves for some time."

"Define 'some time,'" I prompt, my eyebrows climbing my forehead at his admission.

"Since the first time we settled in Forks." Edward's eyes are apologetic when he looks at me and his lips are pursed unhappily. "They are of a local tribe here in the area, the Quileute. The wolves are protectors of the tribe and its lands."

I remember then the cryptic emphasis Edward has placed over the years on certain areas restricted from hunting or travel; clearly those areas belong to the tribe he is describing.

Edward nods, hearing my thoughts as I put the pieces together. "There is a treaty between my family and the Quileute," he says. "Both sides are bound to the conditions dictated by the treaty."

"And I failed to respect those conditions tonight," I say with a groan of apology. "I'm so sorry, Edward."

Edward's reassuring smile is swift, his hands coming out of his pockets to light on my shoulders. "No, it's not that; you were not in the wrong. The wolves are on patrol, ensuring that there are no vampires unidentified by my family. I had hoped to alert them of your presence before you crossed paths."

I nod slowly, certain he is holding back more information. I know equally well and from long experience that Edward cannot be pushed to speak; when he is ready, he will tell me more. Taking his right hand from my shoulder, I draw him along until he falls into step beside me, his free hand again drifting to his pocket. We head east toward the more mountainous parts of the park, and the silence between us is not entirely comfortable.

"Have things between you and Daniel... been repaired?" Edward asks at last, his voice assuming the carefully neutral tone he uses whenever we speak of Daniel.

"Not quite. We've been talking. A part of me thinks Daniel and I are better as friends; Daniel is looking for more... and he is very persistent," I say lightly. "He denies knowing anything about the attacks orchestrated against your family and the girl, first by James and then Victoria."

"What of the night in San Antonio?" Edward asks, his eyes flashing with challenge when he glances at me.

"He claims he had no idea you or I were going to be there. Victoria arranged for him to meet her at the airport only to leave almost immediately," I reply, my voice dry. "I suspect Daniel merely played a part in Victoria's misdirection. She and Daniel traveled together on and off for years; she exploited the mutual animosity you felt for each other."

"Do you believe him?" Edward's voice is soft, his hand pressing my fingers reassuringly.

"In part." I sigh. "I think Daniel would like to tell me the whole truth of what happened; I don't know that he ever will. At the moment, I've agreed to travel with him for a while in the north... outside of that, I haven't yet decided what to do."

We walk in silence a bit longer and I am troubled to note that Edward's brow remains furrowed and his mouth down turned. His free hand now and then rubs the back of his neck, telling me that he is thinking hard.

"Why were you in Vancouver tonight, Edward?" I ask at last, smiling at Edward's huffing chuckle.

"I wanted to talk to you. And... I missed you," he says, shooting me a grateful glance for forcing his hand. "When you left this past spring, I wasn't sure when we'd see each other again."

I give his fingers a light squeeze, nodding in agreement. "I had no set plans when I last saw you; I apologize for being perhaps a bit too ambiguous."

"You don't need to apologize, Julia," Edward replies, quietly pulling my hand into the crook of his elbow.

"Where does the girl think you are tonight?" I ask, eyeing him curiously.

Edward hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck again. "Hunting. And I did hunt earlier, so it wasn't quite a lie."

I shake my head at him, chuckling darkly at his sheepish expression before I continue more hesitantly. "Have you told her about me?"

"Yes, I told her about our friendship," Edward replies, looking at me seriously. "I didn't tell her every aspect, but enough for her to understand who you are and how long our friendship has endured."

I return a silent nod after a few moments, feeling oddly relieved at his words.

"What do you want to talk to me about, Edward?" I prompt again gently, hoping to draw him out fully at last.

Edward is silent for so long, I begin to think he is not going to answer. His free hand rises to cover my fingers on his arm, and his head is bowed as we walk, preventing me from seeing his eyes. When he does speak, his voice pained. "Do you remember telling me once that we have eternity to find our way through this world?"

I nod, remembering the two days in San Francisco that nearly ended in tragedy but instead strengthened our understanding of one another.

"You told me that the challenge, as we discover our paths, is to not lose ourselves," Edward continues, lifting his gaze to mine as he hears my thoughts. His eyes are bright with regret for his loss of control that night.

"I remember," I reply, wordlessly forgiving him again. Letting go of his elbow, I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him closer when he embraces me.

"I think I am losing my way, Julia," Edward says with a heavy voice. "I'm... I'm doing things, and consenting to things that I would not have considered even a few months ago."

"And why is that?" I ask, filled with a tremendous sadness and already knowing what his answer will be.

"Out of guilt," Edward whispers shamefully.

I rest my head against his shoulder at the sight of his head bowing low again. "Edward," I murmur over the tightness in my throat. "What's going on? Is it the girl again?"

"Yes," Edward replies, nodding miserably. "It's Bella. But there is so much more. Without meaning to, I hurt so many people when I left Forks last year. I damaged relationships and the trust of my family.

"I'm sorry to lay all of this at your feet, Julia, especially after everything we've been through in the past year," he says, the conflict clear in his face. "I know you're finally getting on with your life again. But, I feel as though I can't _talk_ to anyone... I've just been burying everything and it's becoming increasingly harder to keep silent."

"Edward, stop," I murmur, stopping to face him and lay my cool hands on his cheeks. "Just start from the beginning. Talk to me."

Drawing a long breath, Edward nods, taking my hands in his for a moment and resting them against his chest. "Let's get out of the rain," he whispers, gesturing with his head in the direction of the mountains.

We race upward, climbing out of the cloud cover into clear evening air. The sky spreads above us with stars like jewels hung on dark velvet, and lit in the east by a white crescent moon. We stop on the shore of a lake we have visited in the past, its silent waters gleaming in the moonlight. We sit together in tall grass that smells of wildflowers mixed with hemlock and cedar. Our shoulders touch as Edward runs his hands through his hair, gathering his thoughts.

"Bella... has consented to marry me," he says at last, his eyes fixed on mine.

I nod once and swallow hard, my gaze unflinching and my thoughts rigidly neutral. I am not surprised by Edward's declaration, despite the ache that spreads through my chest. "All right," I reply carefully.

"But there are conditions for the union," Edward continues with a bitter smile. "Conditions set forth by both Bella and me. In exchange for marrying me... Bella has asked that we consummate the union before she is changed. And... as Bella has agreed to marry me, I have agreed to change her myself."

Knowing how deeply he values human life, the idea of Edward consenting to end that of the girl he loves so deeply is stunning. I cannot stop the soft gasp that escapes me as Edward's words register in my mind, my hand rising to cover my lips. Edward's expression hardens, his lips twisting, as he takes in my expression.

"That doesn't sound like you, Edward," I say finally, lowering my hand back to my lap.

"It's not," he agrees. "It's _not_ at all like me. This is not the first time I have allowed Bella to persuade me to do things I would not under normal circumstances. But this -" Edward trails off, rubbing his fingers frantically over his forehead.

Still stunned by his confession, my voice is hushed when I speak. "Can you live with these conditions?"

"What choice do I have?" Edward asks. His voice is strained, eyes vivid with anguish. "As much as I abhor the idea of Bella losing her humanity to enter this life, I can't imagine living it without her. When she is one of our kind, she will be safe from illness, safe from death; I will be safe from losing her. I... oh, God, I want her as one of us _so badly_ and yet, I cannot stand the thought of damning her.

"What kind of a man am I to corrupt something so pure, Julia? What does it say about me that I've agreed to go against almost everything I believe in simply because this beautiful girl I love has asked?" Edward draws his legs in to rest his elbows on his knees, his head and shoulders falling forward wearily.

Carefully, I reach a hand out to stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. "Have you talked to Carlisle about this?"

"No. I can't talk to anyone in my family about this, Julia," he murmurs sadly, his eyes sliding closed. "They are all too close to Bella to be able to look at this situation objectively. They are too close to her to hear me out without immediately taking her side."

An indignant noise escapes me as I frown at his words, my fingers continuing to move lightly against his silky locks. "You think they would side her over their own son and brother?"

"I know they would," he says, clearly resigned. "After everything I put Bella through by leaving... everything I put my family through. Worst of all, the way I made them feel when I chose to go to the Volturi?" He opens his eyes, shaking his head slowly. "You couldn't bear to even look at me for weeks, Julia, and some of your thoughts are _still_ very angry. You can imagine that my family will do anything to prevent me ending up in that state of mind again."

He turns to look at me, his expression softening. "It's not only that my family thinks of Bella as a panacea to all of my miseries; they love her deeply. Like me, they will do anything to keep her in my life."

We sit quietly for a moment, watching each other until I nod, managing a small smile that Edward tries but cannot quite return. I lie back on the grass and tug him with me until Edward's long limbs fall against mine. We watch the slow path of the stars across the heavens for a time, a cool wind stirring the grasses around us.

"I'm guessing there's more you'd like to tell me," I say at last.

"Recently, I have come to doubt whether the whole of Bella's heart truly belongs to me," Edward says slowly with a sigh.

I turn my head, watching Edward as he speaks. His face is anxious and his eyes trained on the skies overhead.

"Bella has become friends with a young Quileute boy, Jacob. He is a wolf and, as such, the sworn enemy of my family. You can imagine the depth of my displeasure when I returned from Volterra to discover that Bella had befriended a creature sworn to eradicate our kind whenever possible.

"Regardless of my feelings for him, however, Jacob was good to Bella when I left Forks last year. He was more than a friend to her; he helped Bella begin to recover from the blow of my abandonment," he says sadly.

Edward goes on to describe the friendship the girl has built with the boy, Jacob, and the feelings that have grown between them. He details the many small injuries the girl has dealt him, favoring Jacob and taking his side, rejecting Edward's gifts while accepting Jacob's, visiting the Quileute reservation despite Edward's concerns for her safety amongst the unpredictable wolves. He describes the scorn shown him by the girl's father and the unsubtle campaign the man has undertaken to convince the girl that Jacob is the better choice.

I can barely suppress my scowl as I consider Edward's miserable face, reaching to brush his cheek with the backs of my fingers. "Edward, surely you can see the girl is manipulating you?"

"At times, I am almost sure of it," Edward says softly, closing his eyes. "I sometimes catch a fleeting expression in Bella's eyes; it's something very like shame. It makes me wonder if she is aware of how deeply her actions hurt me. There is so much back and forth between us, I can hardly keep up. One moment, she is there with me, so present, her love for me shining in her face with incredible clarity. The next moment, I've said or done something careless concerning Jacob and she is angry... or worse, disgusted with me."

"You haven't said anything to her?" I murmur.

Edward's hand comes up to close lightly over my fingers lingering on his face, pressing our hands together against his cheek. "I don't feel as though I am allowed to say the words, Julia. It is almost impossible for me to say anything about Jacob or the wolves without offending Bella in some way.

"And, despite how I feel about Jacob or his feelings for Bella, the fact remains that I owe him an enormous debt. The wolf pack protected her from the nomads while you and I were chasing Victoria's ghost. Without him and the wolves... I have no idea that Bella would be alive today." Edward's brow furrows, and his throat moves in a hard swallow before he speaks again.

"Initially, I more than disliked Jacob... the only thing holding me back from killing him was my gratitude for his service to Bella and an adamant desire to not further hurt her by destroying her friend. However, I have come to understand that he would do nearly anything to keep Bella safe... and to make her happy."

Edward turns, his great eyes open and shimmering with a terrible anguish. His voice is low and trembling. "Julia, he can give her so many things that I cannot. Jacob can give Bella the human life she deserves. With Jacob, she can have the children I am certain she will someday want. If I love Bella, _truly_ love her... shouldn't I let him give her the things she deserves, rather than bringing her into this life?"

 _Christ._ I roll on to my side, reaching with both arms to draw Edward close. I meet his troubled gaze, running my hands gently over his back in an attempt to soothe him.

"I'm sorry I don't have an answer for you, Edward," I tell him softly. "You and I have so many things in common and yet we are so different. I did not ask to be brought into this world we share, but neither do I regret living in it. I have never regretted it. I don't look back on my human life, mourning its loss. I don't wonder endlessly about the possibilities erased the day Miranda plucked me from under my father's nose. I cannot spend eternity looking backward, Edward; for me there is only forward. Perhaps you will understand what I mean when that girl is changed."

"I suspect that Bella already understands," Edward murmurs. "Inside that frail body beats a heart that may be more like yours than I could have ever guessed."

I hold my breath for a moment, closing my eyes as I push away the anger that flares inside me at Edward's words. I can feel the apology in his gaze scorching my skin as he runs his fingers over my hairline, following the shape of my face to my chin.

"Is it supposed to be this hard?" Edward whispers. "Being in love?"

"I couldn't say," I murmur in reply, my eyes still closed. "It has never been easy for me."

The eastern sky is beginning to change color when we get to our feet, the stars fading slowly. Edward nods when he hears my thoughts, and takes my hand as we run higher into the mountains. Our steps take us past the icy peaks and further east, slowing when the lights of Seattle become visible over the black waters of the sound.

I keep my eyes on the slowly brightening horizon when I speak next. "Edward, why were the wolves chasing me tonight?"

"There was a... battle, quite recently. A large number of newborns attacked my family." Edward's tone is reluctant, his face earnestly apologetic when I turn to look at him. "The wolves have been patrolling the area to ensure that none escaped and that any rogues are eliminated."

"Your family was under attack?" My eyes are wide astonishment. "And you chose not to tell me?"

"Actually, I had planned to contact you, though I was almost sure you would refuse to help us," Edward admits, looking increasingly uncomfortable as his hand drifts to his neck.

"Why would you assume that?" I ask, my surprise swiftly becoming outrage.

Edward's eyes are hot with irritation as his discomfort peaks. "The newborns were under Victoria's orders to attack us and, more specifically, to kill Bella."

"Jesus Christ," I exclaim, raking my hair back angrily. "Edward, just because I dislike the girl -"

"Julia, you more than _dislike_ Bella," Edward grits out harshly, his face pinched with irritation as he stares at me.

"Yes, I admit everything," I say angrily. Neither of us will voice my deepest desires regarding the girl Edward loves. Drawing a deep breath, I continue more quietly. "You know I will not harm the girl _because_ she is your mate. I may not like the facts, but I will not ignore them, Edward. Regardless of any feeling I have or do not have for her, I would not have refused to help you and your family."

"Members of our family refused to help for lesser reasons," Edward replies coldly. "The Denalis refused Carlisle's appeal for help, in retribution for the death of Irina's mate at the hands of the wolves."

"The third nomad from James's coven," I say quietly, remembering what Edward has told me of the male from James's coven who journeyed to Alaska to seek out the Denalis.

Edward nods, hearing my thoughts. "Unbeknownst to us, Laurent mated with Irina; he also maintained ties with Victoria. While you and I were tracking her last year, Laurent was here, scouting Bella. He was discovered by the wolf pack and destroyed."

"Considerate beasties, aren't they?" I muse with grudging admiration.

"Only incidentally, in that case," Edward replies with a dark chuckle. "The wolf pack guards the Quileute lands and the humans in and around them against our kind; killing one of our enemies was pure coincidence. Unfortunately, Irina and her family did not view Laurent's death as a fortunate event, and instead sought revenge when we asked them for help. Carlisle's refusal to break the treaty with the wolves only resulted in bitterness and estrangement. He and I were discussing whether or not to call you, knowing you were close by, when we received assistance from an unexpected source."

"The wolves, of course," I guess. "I must admit, I would have liked to have seen that battle."

"I'm sure it was the first in the history of both our kinds," Edward replies with a laugh. "Victory was a foregone conclusion in the face of our combined forces and the inexperience of the newborns."

"And what of Victoria?" I ask, grinning at Edward's wide smile

"Gone. I dispatched her myself," he says. His velvet voice is rich with satisfaction. "I confess it's been quite some time since I've enjoyed killing something so deeply."

Side by side, we watch the growing dawn become twilight before we turn back toward Forks. As is often the case, our steps are slower as we approach the time when we take our leave of one another. We run silently, enjoying the simple ease of movement.

It is not long however, before Edward stops resisting the speed he loves so much. I see his intention form just as he sprints away, his laugh floating back when I scold him. We race back under the cloud cover, and I cannot stop my smile as I watch Edward's glee.

We are below the tree line when I hear steps approaching from the south. A moment later, Emmett and Rosalie are flying through the rain-dampened trunks with us. Emmett's face creases in an enormous, dimpled smile, his laughter meeting mine when we realize that I am second in speed only to Edward. Rosalie's regal features are less animated, but I spy an impish glint in her eyes when she glances at me, and her beautiful lips curl just slightly at my smile.

Edward leads us steadily north until we meet the Sol Duc's crashing waters, our four sets of flashing feet hardly touching the uneven ground edging the gorge. I hear Edward's chuckle just before he leaps, soaring over the gorge with the rest of us following. The others drop back as we near the road where I have hidden my car. Emmett offers a wave when I glance back, and Rosalie meets my eyes, nodding once before they continue in the direction of the Cullen home, the woods closing behind them. Edward and I continue on, slowing to a walk after we push out of the brush onto the Park Service road.

"I don't want to hide anything from you," Edward says at last, his voice careful. "Bella and I will be married on August thirteenth."

 _So soon._ Despite the conflicted feelings he expressed during the night, there is a soft, happy gleam in Edward's yellow eyes as he thinks of this moment he wants so badly. The smile that lifts his lips is heartbreakingly beautiful, tender and bashful yet knowing. One look at him is enough to steal my breath.

"I'm not sure where I will be then," I answer after a moment, when I trust my voice to be steady. "Daniel's plan is to be someplace in the northern wilderness, as he likes to call it, later this month. Not that I would assume I am invited to the wedding," I hasten to add.

"And not that I would assume you would attend," Edward replies, his face somber once again. He nods when I make no reply knowing my silence is answer enough.

But Edward cannot keep from grinning when he spies the car, and throws me an impish glance before moving to lay his hands on the glossy hood. "Now I wish I had listened to you when you told me to come back in Vancouver. You're not allowed to leave until I've had a chance to drive this beautiful machine."

I walk past him to the driver's side door with my keys in hand, unable to stop smirking.

"I'd gladly let you drive it, if you didn't have somewhere to be," I say, mockingly tapping my wrist with one finger. "Tick-tock, tick-tock; almost time to wake your human."

"The sun has only just risen," Edward protests with a roll of his eyes. "I've got a little time."

I narrow my eyes at him, drawing out the moment before tossing him the keys, and chuckling when Edward lets out a low whistle of delight. I dart around to the passenger's side as he slides behind the wheel and fires the engine to life. My door is hardly closed before we are speeding down the deserted road, the engine's roar shattering the early morning silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Edward - he really does have inhuman patience with Bella. Next up, Julia and Bella will finally meet.
> 
> The next chapter will be the final regular chapter. 
> 
> Note: If you're into cars, Julia's driving a Mitsubishi Lancer. My friend, Skullshank Willy, assures me that she loves that car hard.


	12. Chapter 11: Forks, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following Edward's wedding to Bella, Julia makes some decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me through this story.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of graphic violence.

Water is my eye  
Most faithful mirror  
Feathers on my breath  
Teardrop on the fire  
Of a confession  
Feathers on my breath  
"Teardrop" - Massive Attack

A wedding invitation is amongst the pieces of mail on the side table by my front door. The oversized envelope is on top of the pile, laid there by the young man who has been watching the loft. I run my finger slowly over Edward's fine script on the thick, ivory paper before dropping it gently in the wastebasket at my feet. I know what information the invitation contains; if there is a note from Edward, I am better off not reading it.

Leaving the rest of the mail for later, I walk through the loft space to stand by the enormous windows overlooking the city. It is early evening in Vancouver, just past dusk, and the steely sky is stained with purple streaks and sprinkled with stars. It is late December and Edward has been married for over four months.

...

Daniel and I wander through the Yukon Territory as the short summer of northern Canada ends. We journey north to the Beaufort Sea, hunting bear and caribou in the massive wilderness. There are enormous stretches of tundra to cross, the back brush blazing yellow, red, and orange in the sunlight. We pass vast glacial lakes, their immensely still surfaces mirroring the rosy fire of the midnight sun hovering just below the horizon. Occasionally, we come across a hunting camp or small town where Daniel can feed on humans, while I wait in the forest. He is insatiable after those hunts, his eyes glowing crimson as his hands and mouth roam my body.

Cooler weather arrives with the seasonal shift, and game becomes scarcer with the beginning of autumn. We linger near Whitehorse so Daniel can feed while I hunt smaller animals, my eyes growing dark with a hunger that is never quite satisfied. After news stories surface concerning the larger than average number of missing persons in the area, we turn south, Daniel's eyes filled with apology.

I arrive in Vancouver to close the loft, and pick up my cello and trunk for the trip to meet Daniel in Los Angeles. We do not discuss where we will go after L.A., content for now to follow our whims as they strike. I am unfamiliar with this sort of unceasing travel; my preference has always been to base my shelter in cities for extended periods, particularly as I accustomed myself to working around humans. Since Edward's betrothal to the human girl, however, I have been restless. Cravings for movement and change are constant in my thoughts. I have not been online in months or used my phone, shunning bridges back to the world I know.

Standing by the window while darkness settles over the loft, my drive to become an orphan of the wind fills me with dismay; I have reverted to my old habit of running away from Edward. I move through the gloom to the office space adjacent to the unused kitchen, and slip my phone into the charger as I power up the laptop. My fingers fly over the keys composing emails and filling in website forms, and a few mouse clicks begin a wave of change in my life that I know is long overdue.

Deep in the night, I find myself on the beach below the Lions Gate Bridge, my quick steps taking me west over the sand. It takes only a few minutes to reach Point Atkinson, an unexpected oasis of the last remnants of old growth forest in the area. Winding easily through the ancient hemlocks, I find the old lighthouse with its blind eye staring out at the sea. I linger on the rocks, absorbing the soothing sounds of the sea at my feet and the forest at my back, but move inland at sunrise to hunt. The mountains are thick with deer and I am greedy after the hungry weeks in the north. When I return home at dusk, warm, golden eyes in the mirrors around the loft meet me, and my body still buzzes with blood.

A week passes quickly amongst the whirl of humans celebrating the winter holidays. I spend evenings listening to music in the clubs around the city, and spend daylight hours at my cello, composing and playing with an intensity I have not felt in years. My old trunk keeps company with a battered leather suitcase by the door. I ignore the quiet chimes of my phone, not ready to acknowledge the waiting voicemails and messages.

It is late in the evening on December thirtieth when I pack my belongings in the car, travel documents and phone tucked in my pockets. My body reacts defensively when the sharp mix of linen and amber fill my nose, and it is only with effort that I remain calm when Demetri steps out of the alley to my left. He says nothing, a gentle tilt of his head instructing me to follow him back toward the shadows. I follow him deep into the alley, watching his hair ripple over his shoulders as he moves, his black clothes melting into the darkness.

We approach an enormous SUV idling at the back of the alley, and Demetri holds the door open, silently sliding in after me. Felix sits behind the wheel, his eyes cold and watchful in the rearview mirror. Tiny, gamine Jane is in the passenger seat, her eyes averted and disdain clear in the haughty lines of her profile. Demetri sits on my right, focusing forward as he wordlessly signals Felix to begin driving. And to my left is Daniel, his beautiful eyes burning as he watches me, his lips pressed in a grim line. I see no trace of surprise in his expression; somehow, he knows what is coming next. _Oh, Daniel; what have you done?_

The ride passes in utter silence while the SUV moves rapidly out of Vancouver and crosses into the States. The lights of Seattle are gleaming before us in less than ninety minutes, and the car slips through the neighborhoods toward the warehouses around SoDo and Pioneer Square. The sidewalks here are crowded with the lost and abandoned humans of this city, drunks and drug addicts mixing with scores of runaway children, all struggling to survive. Jane's excitement at the sight of so much fresh meat is palpable in her soft sighs of longing.

Felix pulls up to a darkened warehouse several blocks from the piers, waiting while the enormous door opens slowly to admit us. We park at the end of a long line of similar SUVs, and Felix holds the door for Daniel while Demetri's hand closes lightly on my elbow to guide me out. Our footfalls echo softly through the gloom as Jane leads the way toward the back wall of the cavernous space.

We file through a door into a much smaller space lit by enormous lanterns hanging in each corner. The walls are painted a deep violet and the lanterns throw a low and rosy light around the windowless space. That comforting glow belies the chilling reality of the situation.

A deep chill rolls through my body when I hear soft, wispy threads of laughter though my face betrays nothing. Aro's face is bright with casual cruelty. His eyes burn scarlet through the mist stamped in them by thousands of years of immortality, like those of Marcus and Caius standing at his sides. Subtle movements behind the Volturi masters catch my eye, and my dread increases exponentially to realize many more guards are present. I recognize Alec and a few other faces, but most are strange to me, empty white faces in a wave of grey and black cloaks.

Daniel freezes beside me, stunned into utter silence by the presence of the masters and the sheer number of vampires arranged behind them. Without looking at him, I understand that, whatever else Daniel was expecting, the sight before us has taken him completely unawares.

"Welcome, dear girl," Aro says, clasping his hands together in delight. His skin, like those of the other masters, shines with the fragile brilliance of mica, and the hair tumbling over his shoulders is like ebony. "It has been such a long time since we have seen your lovely face amongst our company; imagine my delight in having that chance so unexpectedly."

I hesitate for just a moment, determined that my voice will be steady when I speak. I manage to get the corners of my mouth to quirk up in a slow smile. "Meeting you in a Seattle warehouse certainly qualifies as one of the more unexpected moments of my evening, Aro."

Aro's laugh is thin and high, rollicking around the space eerily as he motions with both hands. The guards are instantly in motion, most exiting a door behind Aro and a few leaving through the door through which I entered. Moments later, all that remain are the masters and the elite of the guard, Jane, Alec, Demetri, and Felix.

"It is unusual that my brothers and I should journey so far from home," Aro agrees, his amused expression rapidly shifting to become almost mournful. "There are some matters, however, that are so serious they demand our presence. We are here, as I am sure you have guessed, to address crimes committed by the Olympic Coven."

My body reacts without forethought, going rigid with shock. _Crimes? Committed by the Cullens?_

My undisguised surprise at his words delights Aro, his eyes gleaming as he closes the distance between us. "Ah, can it be you do not know? But how can that be?"

The hand that takes mine is cool and as smooth as glass, the long fingers touching mine delicately. Their immense and unnerving power is palpable under a veneer of casual control. An awful, draining sensation overcomes me at Aro's touch, a sinking sort of feeling that makes my head whirl. His scent, like fresh cut thistle and cardamom, fills my throat and mouth when his breath fans over my cheek.

"So Julia has you to thank for her ignorance," Aro says, turning his attention on Daniel for the first time. Dimly, I sense Daniel stiffening at my side as he realizes Aro is consuming my thoughts. "How telling that you did not share the information with her yourself and yet you are here with her this evening; what is she to make of such deception, my dear boy?"

I force myself to speak past the dizzying sensation of Aro's touch, my voice leaden with the effort as I cut off Daniel's unnecessary explanations. "I haven't seen Daniel for weeks. We haven't spoken."

"Yes, I suppose that's true. I think, however, you will be surprised to know how long your young friend has known of the Cullen's transgressions," Aro says. His voice is almost fond as his eyes turn back to mine.

"Always such a loyal friend you are, Julia, and so like my dear Carlisle and his family. It really is a wonder they never convinced you to join them. And thank heaven for that; your determination to honor your grief for Miranda all these years has spared you their contempt for our laws."

"And should spare you from the retribution they deserve," Caius adds, his low voice menacing. He steps forward, his eyes sweeping over first Daniel and then me, filling with disgust as he looks at my yellow eyes.

To my immense relief Aro releases my hand, his expression once again growing troubled. I know it is a ruse; he is thoroughly enjoying my discomfiture and his eyes are calculating as he watches me. The intentions blooming around him make my stomach to twist. "Caius is quite right, I'm afraid. Your friend Edward and his new mate will be made to pay a high cost for committing what is our most unspeakable crime."

"No," I whisper. I shake my head slowly, unwilling to believe their accusations. "Edward would never do such a thing, Aro; he would _never_ change a child-"

"We have a witness claiming that he and his mate have done just that," Caius cuts in with a hiss, his eyes narrowing at me.

"There must be some mistake," I protest hotly. I feel Daniel's hand on my elbow and shake him off angrily. "You know Edward values human life far too much to end that of a child!"

Aro's reply is swift and smooth, shutting down Caius's scathing retort. "Oh, but it is true, my dear; an immortal child has been seen with the Cullens. In fact, one of Carlisle's closest friends approached us with the information. You see, not even those closest to the Cullens can abide this blasphemous act."

Caius's eyes are shining with triumph as he continues in a low voice. "The Volturi have come to remind those in our world that we are ever watchful and just. We have come to pass judgment on the guilty."

I cannot mistake the intentions forming around the Volturi masters as they watch me. They have come to confront the Cullens before a crowd of summoned witnesses, to destroy the family that has grown too powerful to ignore. Raw fury sweeps through me, rage filling my mouth with venom.

Before I can stop myself, I am snarling, the sounds ripping through me loudly. Invisible flames crush me without warning, throwing me to the floor and twisting my limbs with pain. The sounds of my own cries fill my head as fire races through my veins and along every nerve ending.

"Thank you, Jane." The fire withdraws instantly with Aro's quiet words. His long, white fingers are before my face, guiding me back to my feet as he steps closer. I meet his red gaze as steadily as I can while he holds my hand.

Aro is silent for a moment, the listening expression overtaking his face. "But my dear child, there is no need to be so dramatic," he says with a wistful smile. "You are so much like Miranda that way; impulsive and quick tempered."

His eyes are amused as they flit to meet Daniel's with a dry laugh. "I had rather hoped that we could persuade Julia to stand with us tomorrow when we meet the Cullens; you can imagine how useful her gift for reading an opponent's intentions can be."

The fingers of Aro's free hand rise to cup my chin very lightly as he turns his gaze back to mine. His voice softens slightly as he continues to address Daniel. "Julia was just thinking that the loss of her eyes would render her gift useless; she cannot read the intentions of those around her if she cannot see."

I hiss angrily again, prompting Felix to step closer, and throwing us in the shadow of his enormous form. I brace myself for another fiery assault as Aro's fingers run the length of my jaw, coming to rest lightly on my right shoulder.

"Now then," he croons softly, drawing my gaze back to his. "I won't ask you to read the Cullens for me, my dear; there will be no need. Particularly so when it comes to their newest coven member, who is a most powerful shield you have no hope of penetrating.

"I did hope, of course, that you would finally see reason. I hoped you would welcome the chance to use your gift in our efforts to right a terrible wrong." He steps back, releasing my hand to a chorus of dry laughter that whispers around the room when I sway slightly, catching myself with a soft oath to stand upright again.

"Forgive me for being... disappointed by your continued refusal. And by your intentions to interfere where you have no right." Aro's face is as smooth and empty as white marble while he watches me. "It would be a crime to damage a gift such as yours. And, I must confess that I find your eyes amongst the most beautiful I have ever seen, even muddied as they are. If you behave, Julia, we won't remove your arms and finish the job that dear Edward so rashly began."

In the end, the masters decide to make the scars of my punishment more visible, a warning to others who might be tempted to meddle in Volturi matters. Despite my efforts to remain silent, the room rings with my hoarse screams when Demetri holds me down and Felix takes my hands.

Demetri's fingers are light on my shoulder as he leads me toward the back of the room where he leaves me alone with my searing pain. I face the wall, crossing the ruins of my arms in front of me and take the only escape left to me by shutting my eyes. The voices of the masters continue behind me, discussing strategy. Beneath their murmuring, I hear other, less subtle sounds in shuffling steps and the rustle of soft clothing. Most alarmingly, I hear soft breathing and the delicious, wet thump of beating hearts.

I smell Daniel by my side, my throat constricting around the scents of bergamot and anise. I wait in the darkness of my closed eyes for him to offer more tender deceptions, but there is only silence. The sensation of his soft fingers closing around my left elbow finally breaks my reserve and I shrink from his touch with a hiss.

"How long," I whisper after a moment, sickened by the tremors overtaking my body and shaking my voice. "How long have you been hiding this from me?"

Daniel takes his time before speaking. "Since Whitehorse," he says, so quietly I suspect he may not want me to hear him. "I found out just before we left for Vancouver."

"Two weeks," I reply in a daze.

"I got a call in Whitehorse," Daniel whispers, his voice strained. "You'd left your phone behind; there was no way you'd know if I didn't tell you. It didn't matter at any rate. Demetri would find you no matter what I told you or when."

"As if that matters, Daniel," I murmur, shaking my head.

He leans in, his voice so close I can feel the whisper of his breath on my ear. "I _hate_ that they hurt you. I didn't want that, not ever. But you needed to be made to see, Julia; to see the Cullens for what they are."

An all-consuming pain crashes through me as my brain registers Daniel's words. The expression twisting my face is enough to cause him to reach for me again, his hands closing on my shoulders before I cringe away.

"Oh, Daniel. The only thing I see now is _you_ for what you are," I say brokenly. "Edward tried so many times to tell me you couldn't be trusted... and I didn't believe him."

"He committed a _crime_ , Julia," Daniel whispers harshly, his voice twisted with anger and loathing. "Fucking hell, they created an immortal child! Are you going to tell me they don't deserve to pay?"

"There _must_ be some kind explanation for the child if it exists," I reply, my words hardly louder than breaths. "This isn't about the child, Daniel, not really. The child is just an excuse to condemn and dismantle their family. The Volturi are here to _acquire_ Alice and Edward. They want Alice's husband and the newborn female. This isn't about justice; this is about power."

"It is time we fed, brothers." Marcus's voice is soft as he speaks for the first time, and eager with hunger.

The shuffling sounds I have been hearing make sense to me now; the warehouse space beyond this room is peopled with fresh prey. I can smell coffee and hear the murmur of tender human voices lured in by promises of shelter and a hot drink. I feel the room growing crowded again as the guards return to gather with the masters. The command to move comes wordlessly, and I imagine the masters exiting first as the room empties rapidly, the bolt of the door sliding home loudly behind them.

Perhaps four seconds of silence pass before the screaming begins, but it is very brief. I press my face against the rough bricks and swallow venom when the smell of blood leaks into the room, my injuries making my thirst sharper. Even without breathing, I know my eyes are shining obsidian beneath my lids.

I hear the SUVs as they begin leaving the warehouse in pairs. The bolt in the door slides open again, ringing in the silence. Demetri's quiet steps cross the room, his scent mixed with the salty tang of blood. I open my eyes at last to meet his, sparkling like rubies as he watches me, his face utterly impassive. With exquisite grace, he bows low, his eyes never leaving mine as he places a soft bundle on the floor at my feet.

Reattaching my hands takes a long time.

By the time I drive out of Seattle in a stolen car, the sun has risen behind the haze blanketing the sky. The miles pass in a blur as I push the engine relentlessly, and I stop myself more than once from shoving the gas pedal through the floorboards. As I drive, I read and listen to the dozens of messages Edward left after the family learned of the Volturi's threat. Waves of guilt crash over me as his messages become progressively graver, describing Alice's discovery and the family's anguish. Edward's voice is bleak when he talks of Alice and Jasper disappearing and the family's desperate scramble to assemble witness to speak on their behalf.

How helpless he must have felt, left alone with his newborn wife and the immortal child, while his family scoured the globe for support from family and friends. How lonely he must have been without his touchstone, Alice... and without even a kind word from me, his wayward friend.

I leave the car on an old logging road just past Skokomish and race into the trees. My eyes are blind to the beauty around me as I climb higher, the terrain blurring as it becomes mountainous and cold. To calm myself, I deconstruct Mahler's Symphony No. 7 in my head, methodically transcribing the notes from memory as I run.

The clear voices of my kind carry great distances. I hear a great deal through the thick trees before arriving at the edge of a clearing where the judgment is taking place. Watching through the cover of trees, my eyes widen at the sheer number of figures assembled on both sides. There are over thirty Volturi, including the wraithlike wives, arranged in a precise formation, their dark cloaks swirling gracefully in the wind. Their witnesses are an even larger group but loosely assembled and more uncertain. I see a range of emotions on their white faces ranging from outrage to fear. Daniel stands in the midst of the witnesses, his eyes narrow with loathing as he stares over the field at the Cullens.

Despite the severe beauty of the Volturi formations, the Cullens and their assembled witnesses are an even more astonishing presence. A stunning array of immortals stands with the family, nomads, and covens alike, flanked on both sides by the Quileute wolf pack. More than a dozen massive beasts are standing with the vampires, their eyes glittering coldly over the snowy field. The front line draws my eyes, registering Edward standing tall with the newborn female just behind him and bearing a child on her back.

 _There._ She is a child with Edward's features and gingered hair. Dark eyes like her once human mother's shine with awareness in a rosy-cheeked face. A symphony of heartbeats fills my ears as I gaze at her, the thundering of the wolves' hearts beating beneath a high thrumming that can only belong to the child. A child who is neither vampire nor human, but something even the ancient Volturi have never seen. A child that Aro's intentions tell me is a miracle rather than an abomination, and very much feared.

Carlisle and Edward's rich tones undercut the sharp voices of the Volturi masters, like leather and velvet over crystal and ice. I know, just as the Cullens and their comrades know, that none of their debate matters, regardless of how well the Cullens can prove their innocence. The Volturi's intentions are spread before me like cards in a game, and their thoughts are ringing plainly in Edward's mind. The guards' intentions are focused, while those of the witnesses lack uniformity, but all are united under the dual goals of condemnation and punishment.

The intentions of the Volturi masters stand out in the crowd, their agendas shining brightly. Just how far they will go becomes clear when they execute the outcry witness, a female from the Denali coven who is incinerated with staggering swiftness. The Volturi masters smile as her sisters' anguished screams echo over the clearing; confident they will leave the clearing with new acquisitions or lay waste to all that oppose them.

I know the Volturi will pursue me after the business in the clearing is done; my flagrant disregard of their warning has been noticed. Whether they kill or capture me, I cannot guess. I stop thinking of Mahler's notes as the Volturi masters go through the charade of deliberation. I allow the memories of what I have seen and heard since last night to flood my thoughts. My lips move in silent apology for being absent when I should have been standing with Edward and his family. Feelings I banished decades ago fill my mind, freeing me in these last minutes from the need to hide. The Cullens and their supporters are embracing, their whispered goodbyes rustling in my ears, while I ready myself to join Edward and his family when the battle begins.

I never stir from my spot.

The smile breaking over Edward's lips is sudden and transforms his face with fierce joy. In a voice bursting with triumph, he welcomes Alice and Jasper into the clearing, followed by three figures. Amongst them is a young man like Edward's daughter, neither vampire nor human. With stunning swiftness, he and Edward's child change the world known by our kind irrevocably.

The corners of my lips threaten to turn up in a grin as the Volturi's strategy collapses, and their crowd of witnesses streams hastily into the woods. The Volturi themselves depart the field in the perfect synchronicity they have perfected over the centuries, their dark cloaks swirling and cowls hiding the white faces of guards and masters alike.

Before I can blink, Demetri is at my side, his red eyes infinitely deep and cold in his elegant face. The sounds of the Cullens's joyful celebration fill the air as Demetri watches me. His silence is somehow worse than any threat he might utter, pinning me down in a way I cannot ward off. Again, I choose the only escape left to me. Mahler's notes fill my head as I close my eyes and wait, whether for a blow or flames, I cannot guess.

It is dark when I open my eyes again, the moon shining like a great white opal in the lazy swirls of stars overhead. The silence is absolute and pierced only by the sound of my steps crossing the frozen ground. I make slow circuits of the clearing, sipping icy air that tastes of hemlock and snow.

I spend that night and the next day alone, exploring the park. With no real agenda, I visit the spots I love most as they strike my mind, my memories keeping me company. I am sure Edward and Alice have done their parts to ensure a peaceful night when several dark shapes catch my eye in the rainforest. The wolves are neither threatening nor welcoming as they watch me, loping away before long, leaving the rank smells of fur and grease behind. Twilight has deepened to dusk when I turn toward Forks, running easily through the big trees and reveling again in the living silence of the forest.

The vampire at the stone bench is not one I was expecting, and my eyes widen at the sight of Edward's newborn mate perched on the old stones. Her head bows slightly, a cascade of rich brown hair half hiding her face and her scent is like freesia and fresh cut grass. With a frown, I realize I cannot read her intentions; like Daniel, her mind is closed. I approach her cautiously and without stealth, knowing that surprising her could prove very dangerous.

Hearing me, she flashes to her feet, each of us frozen as we regard each other over the space separating us. She is beautiful and shining brightly with the stunning newborn strength. Her wide eyes are dark amber, fiercely intelligent, and softened just slightly by kindness. Watching her, my dead heart crumbles a bit more to realize how easy it is to imagine her at Edward's side.

"Bella," I say softly in greeting, hiding my amusement when her eyebrows rise in surprise.

"Hello, Julia," she replies somewhat stiffly in a sweet, clear voice. Her face pulls down in a small frown before she continues. "I... I'm sorry if that sounded rude. I'm just at somewhat of a loss as to what to say to you."

Walking forward slowly, my gaze locks on hers and I shrug one side of my mouth quirking up in a smile. "You don't need to say anything to me."

"But there are things I want to say," Bella replies, her brows drawing together. "Things that I _should_ say to you."

My steps have led me to the bench where I pause to gauge her emotions before sinking down on the seat. "Certainly, if you like. But I'll be on my way shortly; there's no point in our wasting words."

"I don't consider telling you how grateful I am for your presence in Edward's life to be wasted words," she says firmly, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

"Forgive me," I say dryly. "I would have thought that gratitude would be amongst the last things you would feel for me."

Bella nods, her eyes softening slightly before glancing in the direction of the Cullen home and back to me. "You would be wrong in that assumption, Julia. I know you have supported Edward in many ways over the years. You taught him things he needed to learn and gave him friendship even when it became difficult for you to do so. I can be nothing but grateful to you for that."

"I'm glad to know you feel that way," I reply, my eyes narrowing slightly as I fight the urge to roll them. "And I'm glad Edward feels that way."

"This is coming out wrong," she says with a sad sigh. Bella's voice is quiet when she continues, her face resolved. "I owe you for more than just being Edward's friend, Julia. You stayed with him in Rio instead of leaving him alone. You tried to get him to come home, tried to make him safe. You kept him from losing his mind-"

"But I didn't stop him, Bella, not when it counted," I cut her off, my voice bitter. "I let him slip right through my fingers. I don't deserve any thanks, his or yours. I failed Edward in Rio, just as I failed him yesterday."

I tear my eyes away from Bella's, unwilling to let her see the anger and disgust I feel for myself. "I am the _worst_ kind of friend. I am selfish, and frightened to let anyone near me. I run when I cannot have what I want, even when my friends need me. If I were really Edward's friend, I would be there for him, as you and his family have been. I should have been there yesterday, Bella, standing with him, with his family."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, because you couldn't be more wrong," Bella whispers, drawing my gaze back to hers. "I know Edward would say so as well. You _were_ there for him, when he felt he had nowhere else to turn. You've been there for Edward when the rest of us couldn't be, not only in Rio but many times before and after."

We watch each other for a long while. Bella's lovely face grows increasingly forlorn as the silence spins out around us, punctured by the sound of raindrops falling lightly on the forest floor and trees.

"Alice told us that you are here to say goodbye," Bella says abruptly, her face clouding when I nod. "If it's not too much to ask, why are you leaving?"

"It's time," I say simply, a soft sigh crossing my lips. "I've known for a long time that it's never going to get any easier for me, this need to... love Edward. I will never stop wanting to care, never stop wanting more. You have no idea how much I wish I _could_ stop. I could have had a place in a family. I could have kept my friend and had such a different life."

The changes in Bella's expression are subtle, her discomfort at my confession showing in a tightening around her eyes and lips.

"You could find a mate," she says, obviously striving to remain in control of her emotions. "Your feelings could change, Julia; you could love someone else."

I shake my head slowly. "I don't think it works that way. I have been waiting almost ninety years for something to change; I feel the same today as I always have. Even after years of understanding, Edward will never return my feelings. After watching him fall in love with you... seeing him with your child in that clearing yesterday. My feelings _never_ change, _never_ lessen."

"Edward does love you," Bella protests weakly. "He's told me how much he values your friendship. You are like family to him, Julia."

"In some ways, that's the hardest part." I manage to keep my face smooth, but my voice grows thin, betraying me. "The differences in the ways we love each other hurt us both. Edward has always been terribly unhappy knowing he causes me pain."

Bella gives me a penetrating look, nodding slightly. "Is that another reason for leaving? To stop hurting Edward?"

"At this point, there are more reasons to leave than stay," I admit quietly. "I've struggled with this for a long time, Bella. I knew better from very early on, but there must have been a very small part somewhere in me that held on to the hope that something could change, for one or the other of us."

"Then why now, after all this time?" Her expression grows more troubled as she stares at me. "You've had lots of opportunity to leave, but you kept coming back. What changed? "

"I always came back because Edward needed a friend... and I needed him just as much," I confess with a small shrug. "He has you now, and your daughter. There is no place for me in his life. I belong nowhere, and haven't for almost my entire life.

"Edward knows as well as I, that this is how things _should_ be, though he'll blame himself for being unable to repair our friendship. You have to help him understand that he is allowed to make mistakes and that he has to forgive himself for them. He's allowed to be weak and unsure with people other than me; and particularly so with you."

A dazed expression crosses Bella's face then, a mixture of shame and realization that she fails to hide. She wants to know more, to ask me how Edward spent the decades before she was born. But those are Edward's stories and whether he shares his secrets with her is something only he can decide. Quietly, I stand and turn to go before I am forced to deny her questions.

"You're leaving." Bella flashes in front of me, freezing my steps. "You can't leave without telling him goodbye, Julia."

"It is better this way," I tell her delicately, making to step around her and frowning when she cuts me off.

"No, don't. You may say it will be easier for you, but I think you know that's a lie," she says quickly. "And we both know it's not better for Edward."

The urge to run is overwhelming, a screaming panic rising in my throat at what she is asking. But I cannot deny she is right, even as the ache in my chest threatens to split me in half. I have to stop running.

"I'll be at the blue glacier," I say, my breath hitching before I can stop it. "Will you tell him?"

My lips are stiff, becoming more of a grimace than a smile, but Bella nods in return, meeting my eyes to my gaze for a long moment. I move past her to fly through the woods, my eyes and throat burning with tears that will not come.

It does not take long to climb out from under the tree line, or find a place amongst the rocks where I can sit and absorb the dark, creeping silence of the glacier at night. Before long, Edward's footfalls are audible behind me, his sweet scent rolling over me when I glance up at him standing next to me. Edward is dressed simply, in fine dark trousers and a black sweater. His hair is windblown, and tousled as well, no doubt by a pair of small hands. His face is lit with a range of emotions that only make him more beautiful.

"You really know how to keep a guy waiting," he says with a smile, his eyes warm and teasing as he settles himself beside me. "There's fashionably late and then there's just irretrievably tardy, Julia."

"I am so sorry," I murmur, nearly unable to meet his eyes. "I didn't know what was going on, Edward."

"Don't blame yourself," Edward says at once, laying his hand over mine in my lap to soothe me, reassuring me with his words and eyes. "Where you were going, I knew it was a long shot that you'd even get the messages. If you had gotten them in time, I am certain you would have been here sooner. And in the end, you _were_ here and ready to fight with us; for that, I cannot thank you enough.

He looks down at our joined hands, his face growing dark when his eyes move over the scars on my wrists. Neither of us speaks for a long time, Edward's fingers tracing over the ragged white lines the only movement between us. We do not speak of Daniel and my repeated refusals to listen to Edward's doubts. We say nothing of Aro or Caius and the twisted agenda they nearly achieved. Neither of us voices our certainty that the Volturi will return for us one day, nor how these thoughts will haunt us during our most unguarded moments.

Instead, I look at Edward's lovely face, creased with guilt and pain for my injuries. "Tell me about your daughter," I say gently, unable to stop myself from smiling at the storm of emotions in his eyes.

We sit through the night, my hands in Edward's as he talks. He tells me Bella's story, his voice growing hoarse with grief when he describes the awful trial of carrying and giving birth to the half vampire child that nearly killed her. His voice drops to a whisper and his face becomes much too still when he talks of changing Bella. He speaks of the days he spent at her side, wracked with guilt and uncertainty, while she burned in silence. His joy is palpable when he talks of Renesmee, his frighteningly precocious daughter, spectacularly gifted, and capable of enrapturing everyone she meets. I try but fail from laughing wildly when Edward confesses that the Quileute Jacob, the very boy he once regarded as a rival, has imprinted on the child, and inserted himself as an unconventional but much loved member of the Cullen family.

It is past twilight and the dawn sky is shading from purple to pink when I turn a smile toward Edward that drains all expression from his face.

"Are we really doing this?" he asks, his voice pained as he squeezes my fingers.

I nod slowly, getting to my feet. Gently, I tug at his hands until he stands. "It's time for both of us to let go, Edward."

"You've said that before," he argues softly. "You told me goodbye in Boston, that you'd let me go, but we stayed friends. What's different this time?"

"I can't be your friend, Edward, not when I'm too busy running from you," I begin, frowning when he shakes his head.

"Bella told me what you said," he says, cutting me off with a sheepish expression. "About not being there for me and letting me down. It's not true. You've been there every time I've asked, and sometimes when I didn't ask."

Edward's hopeful smile is wide, his golden eyes glowing as the sunrise creeps over the horizon. "There is a place for you in my life, in all our lives. I know there is a way we can make this work, Julia, a way to stay friends -"

"I've closed the post office box in New York," I murmur, cutting Edward off as his eyes widen in surprise. "The houses in Los Angeles and New Orleans are being sold, as well."

I turn my eyes to the blue ice, my voice soft when I speak again. "I received your wedding invitation after returning to Vancouver. I didn't open it, but... I realized that I have to figure out how I want to live. And I won't do that unless I leave and stop lingering here in the corner of the world just to be close to you.

"I never meant to fall in love with you, Edward, you know that. It happened the moment I saw you on the lakeshore in Chicago, though I denied it for so long, to you and myself." I turn back to meet Edward's miserable gaze, my throat tightening with emotion. "There was nothing I could do to fight it, and I want you to know I did try."

"I know you did," he whispers, his eyes anguished as he crushes my hands. "I saw it happening, but I didn't know what to do."

"Was it like that for you when you met Bella?" I ask, rubbing my fingers over his.

"Yes," Edward says at once. "I fought it, too, but couldn't hold out for long. It was then that I understood how you felt, Julia, and why you kept running; it was like being steamrolled. Falling in love with Bella was the one thing I encountered in my life that I had absolutely no control over."

"But you've always been one to assume you have control over everything," I reply with a croaky chuckle. "In truth, we control nothing. I've known that from very early on."

"You don't really believe that," he says unhappily, his lips pulling down in a frown.

"I am certain of it. Think of the way I was brought into this life and the way I lost Miranda. Or think of the way I met and loved you when I had no right to do so." My voice is low but not bitter as I speak. "I don't know whose plan those things fell into accordance with, Edward, but it certainly wasn't mine."

Edward slowly raises his right hand to trace along my hairline, his fingers moving tenderly along the edge of my face, and coming to rest on my chin. "'The feather flew, not because of anything in itself but because the air bore it along. Thus am I, a feather on the breath of God.'"

I nod, my lips curling in the smallest of smiles, overwhelmed with gratitude once again that I do not have to explain myself to him. "Yes. It's time to see where I fly next, Edward."

"Are you sure?" His voice is rich with quiet pain. A deep sadness simmers in his eyes as they travel over my features.

"I'm sure," I tell him, my voice almost steady, using my own eyes to memorize the fine details of the face I have grown to love so deeply.

Edward leans forward, the resignation in his face smashing my silent heart, and draws me into his embrace. We stand with our arms around each other, as the morning grows golden around us. I press my cheek to his shoulder while Edward rests his head against mine. We watch the light reflected against the glacier and breaking like diamonds against our skin. Neither of us says the words we should, because those words only make this more difficult.

_I'll miss you._

_I love you._

_Goodbye._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. My original story outline included a very different ending. As I wrote, Julia's character changed so much that she completely outgrew the outline. I hope you agree that this ending fits the story and, in particular, fits Julia.
> 
> Note:
> 
> The lyrical 'feather on the breath of God' words Edward quotes are from the writings of Hildegard von Bingen:
> 
> "Listen: there was once a king sitting on his throne. Around Him stood great and wonderfully beautiful columns ornamented with ivory, bearing the banners of the king with great honour. Then it pleased the king to raise a small feather from the ground, and he commanded it to fly. The feather flew, not because of anything in itself but because the air bore it along. Thus am I, a feather on the breath of God."
> 
> It has been posited that vocalist Elizabeth Fraser was inspired by von Bingen when writing the lyrics for Teardrop, a Massive Attack song that has been interpreted in many ways and inspired the title of this story. To me, falling in love is one of the most uncontrollable experiences a person can experience. Like a teardrop on the fire, one can be consumed by love.


	13. Chapter 12: Outtake - Portland, 1986

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, this is different. I had a couple of comments wanting to know a bit more about Daniel and Julia, an idea I really liked. Turns out that Daniel is the one with that info - and the boy likes to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains some description of violence.

_(Outtake)_

I think bad thoughts  
All day and all night long  
I think I bad thoughts  
Don't care what you think's wrong  
"I Think Bad Thoughts" - Danko Jones

I smell them as soon as the club door closes behind me: vampires, at least four of them.

The room is packed full of humans, the salty scent of their bodies mixing with cigarette smoke and rain tracked in from the sidewalk outside. The cluster around the front and back bars and fill the pit in front of the stage, their soft bodies moving with the growling music of the band onstage.

"Hey, Daniel." Allison is a waitress that I flirt with when I stop here, a juicy blonde with long legs. I shoot a grin her way as we pass each other and her cheeks heat with a blush that makes my mouth wet with venom.

The vampires are gathered by the back bar. There are two males and a female, all dressed like the young humans surrounding them. The males are tall, one enormously muscled and the other lanky with wild hair, and they stand on either side of the petite female. Their cool beauty draws the eyes of many, though they seem oblivious to the attention and talk easily with each other. Their attention is focused toward the stage, particularly that of the lanky male. I notice that their brilliant eyes are strangely pale and my insides twist in revulsion. I have heard during my travels of the northern covens that abstain from human blood but this is the first I've encountered them.

I look over the seething crowd to the stage where the band, _Thirst,_ is knocking out some very good post-punk and hardcore rock. The foursome has a clear following in the crowd and their feline sensuality is mixed with rough edges. The front man embodies all the rock god components, his eyes blazing and his lean body straining under a Skinny Puppy shirt. The buzzing energy of the crowd feeds his performance and powerful voice.

But the only thing I want to look at is the girl standing toward the back of the stage with an enormous bass guitar slung low on her hips. She's dressed in a simple white T-shirt and tight, dark jeans tucked into a pair of Docs. She is mesmerizing. She works the bass hard, a lazy smile spreading over her mouth as she plays and her short, dark hair swinging along her jaw. Her fingers work the strings in ways that make me want to lick them. Her eyes are not as light as the vampires by the bar, but neither are they crimson, and I wonder if she is a member of their coven. The girl is part of the band and yet stands apart, separated from her mates by gender and the subtly alien qualities that tell me what she is: my kind.

The front man moves to the girl's side in between songs, bowing slightly to speak in her ear. One hand rests on her shoulder as he gestures with the other toward the audience and she grins as she listens. She rolls her eyes at the teasing catcalls floating out of the impatient crowd, and finally nods. When the girl chuckles, I hear it over the din of the crowd, a smoky sound deep in her throat that makes me want to move closer.

"You guys are in for a treat tonight; our girl, Jules, is gonna sing the last song," the front man says into his mic, his smile growing wide when the crowd roars. "You know she only sings covers, so buckle up and let's give thanks to Jules."

Without warning, a wall of sound crashes out of the speakers, every member of the band throwing themselves into the song. The crowd erupts, throwing their bodies around the pit with abandon, their knots of sweating limbs gleaming under the lights.

The girl takes two steps toward the mic and opens her mouth to sing.

_Finished with my woman 'cause she couldn't help me with my mind  
People think I'm insane because I am frowning all the time _

Now I understand the front man's words and why the girl called Jules doesn't often sing. Never mind that the behavior is conspicuous, her voice is enough to drive a sane man crazy. The sounds coming from her match the chuckle I heard, amplified a thousand times; her voice is pure, smoky power and intensely alluring.

_All day long, I think of things but nothing seems to satisfy  
Think I'll lose my mind if I don't find something to pacify _

_Can you help me occupy my brain?  
Oh yeah_

Her voice does something to the crowd, driving their energy level to the edge of violence. The pit grows more frenzied, the bodies pushing against each other to create great waves of momentum. Boys jump on stage to dive back out onto the sea of waiting hands, and their bodies twist and toss.

_I need someone to show me the things in life that I can't find  
I can't see the things that make true happiness, I must be blind _

The girl called Jules plays her guitar with abandon, handling the heavy instrument against her small body with easy grace. Her face is bright, and the tip of her tongue peeks out between her teeth for a moment before darting to lick her lips. The faces in the crowd watching her are stupid with lust. I can smell her through the heavy musk scent of the humans: fresh cedar and vanilla with the faintest hint of blackberries. She is luscious.

_Make a joke and I will sigh and you will laugh and I will cry  
Happiness I cannot feel and love to me is so unreal _

The girl's band mates are equally caught up in the moment, and sharing in the crowd's glee. The energy in the room approaches fever pitch, the stage divers growing more reckless and the pit spilling into the bar area. The burly bouncers normally stationed at the door are circling the crowd and I know the girl will have the humans rioting if she keeps at it. Her expression tells me she is aware of her effect on the crowd and that she likes it.

_And so as you hear these words telling you now of my state  
I tell you to enjoy life I wish I could but it's too late_

Stepping away from the mic, the girl catches the front man's attention by tapping his foot with her own. His head snaps up, his eyes finding hers, and he comes back to himself. With a few signals, he brings the others back with him to end the song in a final crash of sound.

The girl makes her way toward the side of the stage, pulling the guitar strap over her head. The front man tries vainly to make himself heard over the crowd's howling. She smiles a lopsided grin and sends a quick wave to the audience before disappearing backstage with the others, their figures slipping past the next band on the roster.

I take my time walking through the club, waiting for her to reemerge from backstage. The new band's songs are loud and full of joyful venom that seems to placate the crowd, gradually bringing the humans down from the madness incited by _Thirst's_ set.

I catch sight of the girl at the bar chatting with the rest of the pale-eyed coven. She is leaning lazily against the side of the lanky male, and his arm is around her shoulders. My desire for her doesn't decrease as I watch her, despite the obvious affection she shares with the one at her side. I want her, even if they are mated.

I let my eyes run over her body, taking in the slim white neck peeping from beneath the cap of dark hair and her slender body. My gaze lingers especially on the soft curves of her hips and ass and I wonder how those long legs would feel under my tongue.

Her companion stiffens suddenly and turns in my direction with narrowed eyes and a sneer, his whole demeanor radiating offense. He scans the crowd while the others follow his gaze, their interest piqued.

"What is it, Edward?" the petite female is asking, her voice like silver bells over the din of the club.

"It's nothing," he replies in a low voice. "Just someone with appalling manners."

"More appalling than usual, I take it," the girl called Jules says teasingly, nudging him with her shoulder as she, too, scans the crowd.

Her words draw a smile from him, though he is clearly still chagrined. "Nothing I haven't heard before, I suppose."

"Stop eavesdropping," the burly male scolds, though his big body is tensed with anticipation despite his playful words.

I realize the one with the wild hair has heard my thoughts. My mind goes blank with surprise for a moment, before I shrug; despite my hunger for the girl, I'm not spoiling for a fight. As I turn to leave, her eyes meet mine and widen slightly as if in surprise, followed immediately by her companion's. I feel the combined weight of their gaze on my back as I make my way to the exit.

It's nearly dawn when I finish drinking. The man was foolish from drinking too much beer, and unwisely stumbled away from a group of friends. He is young, hardly more than a boy, and tall with a meaty body. His blood slakes the fire in my throat but does nothing for the thirst I feel for the girl with the bass guitar.

I move around Oregon and Washington for several weeks, surveying the music scene and hunting. I see others of my kind from time to time as I wander, sometimes traveling in pairs but more often as solitary nomads like myself. I find no trace of the pale-eyed coven from Portland; the four figures seem to have melted into the rain that had fallen that night.

I turn south after a week in Seattle, driving the car of the young lawyer who approached me in a punk club on Fifth Avenue. Her hands were hot on my arm as she led me to her car, and she smiled when the shadow of the Space Needle fell over us and I put my mouth on her. I hid her in the Puget Sound before gassing up the car for the trip.

The signs for San Francisco catch my eye and I merge the car onto the Golden Gate Bridge without much conscious thought. It's late in the evening rush hour, and the twilit sky is purple over the city. I am already overdue to meet my friends in Ensenada but I know the coven will be easy to track. I need a few more nights of solitude before subjecting myself to James' frenetic pace.

I reach the bar in the Tenderloin before 11:00 pm. The sign outside reads ' _Thirst_ ' but it's the cedar and vanilla scent by the door that catches my attention. I wonder at the odds the little bassist is in this dive bar I occasionally frequent. The prospect of seeing her again is too tempting, even at the risk of running into the rest of her coven, and the door slams behind me as I make my way down the narrow stairwell.

The girl called Jules is there, looking even more delicious than she had in Portland. _Thirst_ is thrashing hard on stage and the crowd's approval roars like thunder though the dimly lit space. I scan the bar and corners of the club for the yellow-eyed vampires, but see and smell nothing out of the ordinary. Tonight, it seems, she and I are the alone in our immortality.

I am disappointed but unsurprised that Jules doesn't take the mic, instead standing slightly upstage through the set as she pounds the strings. _Thirst_ tears through their set, and I grin when the little bassist urges the wild kids in their flailing stage dives. When she disappears backstage after the set, I move across the room to wait for her.

Her scent washes over me before I catch sight of her, and her smoky voice floats over the noisy ska band on the stage. She is dressed simply again, jeans and a T-shirt under a leather jacket, and the stacked soles of her boots add an extra inch to her height. She is the picture of casual, and very human in her ways, chatting easily with her band mates as they make their way to the bar.

I know she catches my scent when her neck grows just a bit longer and her shoulders stiffen, though the humans around her do not notice these changes. Her enormous eyes are darker and redder than when I last saw her, and spark with recognition when they meet mine. It's difficult to know if she is surprised or angered by my presence but her defensive reactions are in check; neither of us will cause a scene in this very public venue.

The sudden grin ghosting over her lips surprises me, and my eyebrows rise when she inclines her head toward the backstage door. I follow her down a narrow hallway and through a metal door leading outside to a small, rectangular courtyard, walled in on all sides by the surrounding buildings. The stones beneath our feet are aged by time and weather, and the moon is bright overhead. The surrounding walls muffle the noise of the city and music from the club, leaving us in near silence.

"I saw you in Portland," the girl says. "I'm sure of it, at a show we played there in September."

I nod, smiling as her eyes roam over my face, assessing me. A tiny wrinkle forms between her brows as if she is working out a particularly puzzling problem.

"Yes, I was there. I saw you sing," I reply meaningfully.

She laughs then, the lilting notes of her voice curling around me like a smoke. That laugh makes my desire jump and makes me want things. I want to touch her dark hair, to discover if it is as silky as I imagine. I want to know how she fits against me and what her flesh feels like beneath my hands. I want to touch her lips and tongue with mine.

"I don't often sing, but my friends were there for the show," she says with a shrug, running a hand through her hair. "I was showing off a little."

"It's probably best you don't sing often," I reply, taking a step toward her. "I'm surprised they didn't tear the house down."

"The humans you mean? They're just easily excited," she scoffs gently. "It was nothing we couldn't handle. They are just as easily pacified."

Nodding, I take another step toward her, liking the way she tilts her head back to watch me with her long, shining eyes. Her throat is white in the moonlight and the crease between her brows lingers, making me wonder what troubles her.

"They call you Jules," I say, lifting my hand to run my index finger delicately over that stubborn crease. She becomes motionless, and her face empties of expression under my touch. Carefully, I move my hand away, and watch her come back to life.

"Yes, they do. But my name is Julia," she replies. Her eyes are keen when she holds a slim hand toward me.

"Very nice to meet you, Julia," I say, chuckling as I shake her hand. "I'm Daniel."

The metal door behind us swings open then, and we turn to look at the flushed and smiling human face of the drummer.

"Hey, Jules; thought you'd be out here. We're all going for some burgers. You coming? I've got Marianne here with me." He holds her guitar case aloft and looks at our joined hands before shrugging in my direction. "You, too, man, join us."

"I'm not hungry," Julia says sweetly. She lets go my hand to run it through the boy's sweat dampened hair as she takes the guitar case from him. "But I could do with a cup of coffee. I'll walk out with you."

I hide my puzzlement at her words when she shifts her eyes my way, tilting her head a fraction of an inch in invitation.

"You named your guitar Marianne?" I can't help asking as I follow her into the bar.

"Certainly. An instrument like this deserves a worthy name," Julia says, shouldering the case. "I thought Marianne seemed as good as any. Feminine and sensual, strong."

We walk several blocks with the humans, turning into an all-night diner crowded with patrons. Julia places an order for two coffees at the counter while her band mates slide into a booth. She hands me a cup before sending a low whistle their way in goodbye, waving over her shoulder in answer to their catcalls.

"You don't actually drink this, do you?" I ask when we are on the pavement outside, waving the cup in front of me.

"Of course not," she says. She continues walking and smiles when I fall into step beside her. "I like the way the heat feels on my hands; it's lovely. Coffee smells rather nice, as far as human food goes. And it's a convenient distraction; if they think I'm drinking the coffee, they're less apt to remark about my not eating."

"They being your band mates," I reply, watching her nod. Cupping the fragile paper cup in my hard fingers, I realize Julia is right; the heat leaking through the thin paper is delicious.

Her eyes flick over to my face as we walk. "Oh, any human. I spend a lot of time around them with my music. Over the years, I've learned little ways to make them less aware of me so we can just concentrate on playing."

"Yeah, about the playing," I say, and chuckle when Julia raises a brow at me. "If I hadn't seen you onstage in Portland, I wouldn't have pegged you as a rock type. I mean, yeah, the clothes work and you're good with that guitar; really good."

"But," she supplies impishly, waiting for me to continue.

"Yeah, _but..._ away from it all there's something about you I can't quite put my finger on." I stop and turn to face her when she pauses next to me. "Just how old are you, Julia?"

" _Rude_ ," she retorts and turns on her heel to walk off. I dart after her and a laugh bubbles over her lips when she sees my sheepish expression. "Christ, Daniel. Apparently being immortal doesn't make you immune to acting like an utter bonehead."

My laughter rings out loudly and I reach to catch hold of her free wrist, tugging gently to make her stop. We face each other, Julia scowling playfully while I realize how silky her skin is under my fingers. I wanted this girl on sight, even more after I heard her play. Now that I've spoken to her and touched a few inches of cool skin, I can't imagine not having her.

"Oh, so you're the sensitive type, I see. So much for wisdom coming with age," I tease, rubbing my thumb over her wrist. I'm sobered when the humor drains from her face. "Julia... I apologize if I've offended you; I'm just trying to figure out who you are."

"I'm not offended," she replies quietly, turning her eyes away from mine to gaze at the late night traffic streaming past us. Her expression is far away when she continues. "I was just reminded of a conversation I once had with a boy I know; a conversation very much like this one."

A boy she cares for, I think. My mind turns at once to the tall male in the Portland bar, remembering his protectiveness and their casual intimacy.

"I'm nineteen," Julia says with a small smile, her eyes meeting mine again. She begins walking again, drawing me with her when I keep hold of her wrist. "I've been this way for seventy-six years."

"Ah, so that's it," I reply, gloating as I lead her toward a trash barrel to discard the now cold cups. "As good as you are with that guitar, at heart you're more Cole Porter than The Clash."

Julia's mock outrage is tempered by a chuckle and she slips her fingers in mine as we walk north through the city. "You're being ridiculous. The year I was born has no bearing on my ability to appreciate and play _any_ kind of music."

"Obviously," I agree. "You more than prove it when you wrestle with that bass of yours. All I meant is that I'm a bit surprised you don't play a more restrained form of music, given your... age."

"My advanced age, you mean," she scoffs. "If you must know, I play cello, piano, and am fond of all sorts of music. In the interests of remaining less visible, I've found playing rock music in small bands to be much simpler; there's more opportunity to hide in the music."

"As opposed to being a soloist with a symphony orchestra," I say, catching on to hear meaning.

"Despite the large number of musicians, there is no hiding in an orchestra. Far too much scrutiny at every turn; I'd never pass for human."

We walk through Nob Hill and Chinatown, talking about music and the bands Julia has worked with, as well as the music that I like. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed conversation so well and easily, or even when I last spoke with one of my kind about anything other than hunting and blood.

"Do I want to know how old you are, Daniel?" Julia asks as we wait for a traffic signal to change.

"I'm twenty-four, despite the hair," I reply, running my free hand through my short, salt and pepper hair. "My hair started going white when I was in my late teens, but it never bothered me."

"It suits you," she says as we cross the street.

"I lucked out," I tell her with a grin. "I was changed six years ago and had just cut my hair the month before. Imagine going through eternity fighting a mohawk that won't die?"

Julia's infectious laughter fills the air, drawing me in, and making me crave more.

"Up for a run?" she asks at last. We are standing in the shadows outside an alley, and Julia's eyebrow arches in playful challenge.

"Why not?" I blink when she blurs and is gone, trailing a ghostly chuckle behind her as she races through the darkened streets.

I follow her west through the city, marveling at her speed as we fly over the hills; the long guitar case over her shoulder doesn't hinder her in the least. She slows enough to allow me to catch up when we enter Golden Gate Park, flashing a smile over her shoulder as we dart through the gardens. We stop when there simply is no more land, coming to stand on a vast expanse of beach with the Pacific at our feet.

"Did you ever hit full speed?" I ask her as we walk south.

"Not quite," Julia shrugs and allows me to take the guitar case from her. "I run to clear my mind when it's overloaded. And it's something I do with my friends when I see them."

"The friends from Portland," I prompt, growing more curious about her relationship with the animal hunters.

She nods, her hands sliding into her pockets. "Yes, those friends. One of them is very fast; the fastest I've ever seen, and he likes running, too."

"I've heard they live in Washington," I begin, noting at once the way her face empties of expression. "The Olympic Coven... the Cullens."

"Yes," she replies impassively. "Though they aren't based in Washington at the moment. They were just in the area to see the show. I was with nearly half the coven that night. "

"And you're not a member?" I ask, watching her mouth turn down in a small frown. "I thought from your eyes and your... interaction with them, that you belonged to the coven as well."

"I don't belong to any coven," she says, her voice gone very quiet. "The Cullens are my friends. But that is the extent of it."

Her coolness tells me I am treading on dangerous territory, but I push forward, wanting answers.

"You're not involved with the young male, then? I saw you together at the bar after your set; from my perspective, you appeared to be -"

"Edward and I are friends," she cuts me off, her voice just short of sharp. "Very good friends and I've known him for a long time... we aren't mated."

"I'm sorry," I say with a grimace. I want her badly enough to put aside my curiosity for the moment.

"It's complicated." Julia's eyes are on the stars, and her voice is quiet but less icy. "I don't expect anyone to understand my friendship with Edward. I don't understand it very well myself."

We walk for a time in silence, letting the sound of the surf wipe away the tension that has sprung up between us.

"Oh!" Julia says suddenly, a mischievous smile dawning on her face. "It was _you_ that Edward overheard that night in Portland. Am I right? You were having rather... explicit thoughts about me, if I understood Edward correctly."'

I can't help laughing. "Yes, I was enjoying _my thoughts_ , thank you very much. I had no idea anyone would overhear me."

"Well of course not, how could you?" She nods agreeably at me. "Edward can hear the thoughts of those around him. He's gotten very good at tuning most of what he hears out, but sometimes he finds himself _distracted_. Particularly if the thoughts he is overhearing are... adventurous, so to speak."

"You mean if they happen to be about the length of your legs," I retort. "I doubt very much he would have paid any attention if I'd been having the same thoughts about the big male you were with."

Julia's giggles thaw the last of her reserve, and I feel her hand slip into mine again. "That's where you're mistaken. Edward would most certainly have paid attention to those thoughts and taken enormous pleasure in teasing his brother afterward."

"What about you?" I ask, reaching to move a windblown lock of hair behind her delicate ear. "Can you hear thoughts as well? I'm guessing not or you would have thrown me out of the bar that night as well as tonight."

"That bad, eh?" Julia levels a scowl at me. "No, I don't hear thoughts; I can read the intentions of others."

I frown, watching her face. "Which means that you can understand what a person intends to do before they actually act?"

"Yes. Well, most people; I can't seem to read your intentions," she says. She seems amused as she makes this admission, almost relieved.

"Well that definitely explains why you haven't kicked my ass," I reply, stopping and turning her to face me. I cup her cheek with my right hand, and her lips gently with the pad of my thumb.

Julia smiles after a moment. She wraps her fingers around my wrist lightly as she reaches to take the guitar case back. "We're playing another set at the bar tomorrow night; you should come."

"I'll be there," I tell her, leaning in to those depthless eyes, drinking in her scent. She winks and steps away with a grin before she blurs and is gone.

…..

"You again." Julia's eyes flash when I approach her at the bar.

"I told you I'd be here," I say, lightly brushing the backs of my knuckles across her cheek.

Her cool fingers circle my wrist and bring it down toward our hips.

"So you did. Nice to see you're a man of your word," she says with a slow smile, taking my hand in hers.

We linger awhile near the human men Julia counts as friends, listening as they rehash their performances over drinks. I find myself touching Julia as the night goes on; squeezing the hand she's placed in mine, tucking her glossy hair behind her ear, drawing her against my side. Her smiles grow warmer and her eyes glow when our shoulders rub or she brushes my thigh with our joined hands. My desire for her increases with each touch, pushing me to cross unspoken boundaries.

"Let's go somewhere quiet," I murmur in her ear, my nose ghosting her cheekbone. My arm is slung over her shoulders and Julia's is around my waist, the other laying lightly on the bar in front of us. She nods when I press my lips against her temple.

We bid the humans goodnight, making our way out of the bar as they direct low whistles our way. I shoulder the guitar case and notice a glint of resentment in the drummer's eyes. There is a tightness in his jaw telling me he wants more from Julia.

My lust has almost outpaced my patience but I allow Julia to lead again, knowing she won't have it any other way. We walk through the city like humans, our arms loose over and around one another, and we talk as we did the night before. She tells me about the cities she's lived in and the cottage she plans to buy in New Orleans. I tell her of my wanderings since my change, and that I will be meeting friends in Mexico after leaving San Francisco. I know she likes these conversations, and I enjoy giving them to her, even though it means pushing my desire aside a while longer.

"I never asked you," Julia says, inclining her head toward me. "If you have a gift like mine or Edward's."

"None at all," I reply. "Although, I'll have you know I've shown great promise as a juggler."

"Oh, reeeeally," she drawls. "That's a handy skill for the modern vampire."

I groan and hang my head, feigning injury at her words. "Don't doubt the power of flying objects for distracting prey, Julia; you'd be surprised how often one can make use of fine china or fresh fruit when hunting."

Our laughter is loud, drawing the attention of the human eyes around us. I find that I don't care, and take my cue from Julia who brushes off their curiosity with unstudied casualness.

"Speaking of hunting," I say more softly. "Your eyes were more like the Cullens's when I saw you in Portland, almost yellow-"

"And now they're more like yours," she finishes for me. "I hunt both humans and animals. I find myself hunting humans more and more infrequently, but sometimes I'm drawn to old habits."

I grimace and my voice is rough with disgust when I reply. "But why bother at all? To be frank, I can't imagine anything more disgusting; why do you endure it?"

"It's complicated," Julia replies, her voice and body stiff though she doesn't pull away. "I'm not sure I can explain why."

"Does he ask you to?" I remember her standing with Cullen at the bar in Portland, and the gleam of possession in his eyes as he stared at me.

I realize my mistake when Julia pulls away, her voice cool as she levels a look at me. "Edward, you mean? No, he's never asked me to change my hunting habits. "

"Then why bother?" I persist, softening my voice as I recapture her hand in mine. "What is the point of chasing after beasts if you don't have to?"

"The yellow eyes are easier for the humans to ignore, overall. This means I can live in cities like this without attracting as much attention."

"For your hunting habits, anyway. You're not exactly on the down low when you're screaming into a mic."

"Oh, shut it," she mutters softly. Her expression is soft again, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

I ease my arm over her shoulders again; certain she is hiding something about her friendship with Cullen.

Julia leads me up the stairs of a small apartment building in North Beach, turning to look at me over her shoulder as she opens the door. "The sun will be up in a couple of hours. I thought it wise to stay indoors today."

I say nothing as she drops her keys on a side table and walks around the space, lighting lamps and removing her jacket. I hear her load the CD player with discs before Miles Davis's trumpet fills the silence. I find her leaning against one of the large windows in the living area with her temple resting against the glass.

I cross the room and pause behind her with hands in my pockets, mere inches separating us. "Are you thirsty?"

"Not terribly," she replies, her eyes on the stars outside. "I'll hunt tomorrow night. Do you need to hunt before then?"

Leaning toward her is the easiest thing in the world, my mouth drifting to rest on the smooth skin of her neck. Julia exhales softly as I move my lips up, placing slow kisses under and then along her jaw. Her woody, sweet scent is overwhelming, filling my nose and rolling over my tongue. My hands come out of my pockets to rest on her hips, the dark denim soft under my fingers. Her hands cover mine and draw me closer, erasing the space between us. Julia fits against me perfectly. Her shoulders and the base of her neck press against my chest and the swell of her ass is soft against where I am so hard. I have never wanted anyone this badly.

Julia turns her head when my lips whisper against the corner of her mouth. Her eyes, like mine, are open, gazing dark and wide. Our breaths mix, ghosting across our cheeks and mouths when she turns to face me. Her hands slide around my neck, her cool fingers twisting in my hair. I move my hands around her waist to lay flat at the small of her back, pulling her impossibly closer against me to stand between my legs.

"You never answered me, Daniel," she says softly, watching my face.

"I've forgotten the question," I murmur. I can feel myself get harder still when her mouth quirks up on one side in a smile, her eyes gleaming at my admission. "But whatever it was, it can wait."

I think she is the one that closes the short distance between our lips, though I can't be sure. But I do know from the moment our mouths meet that I want more. I lean in, pulling her lower lip in between mine, letting my teeth graze the plump flesh. She lets out a soft hum, and twines her arms tighter around my neck. I smile when I feel her tongue dart out to run over my top lip and she sighs. My hands are on her face, moving her so our mouths can open against each other and deepen the kiss. I can't stop the groan that fills my chest.

That sound triggers something in Julia, releasing her. Her hands move again, slipping under my arms to run the length of my back, and toying with the hem of my shirt before slipping under to touch my skin. Her hands invite me to explore, to skim around her waist and under her shirt, to tease her smooth belly and ribs before cupping her breasts, to swirl my thumbs over her nipples. Julia makes a small, inarticulate sound then, and her lips leave mine when her head falls back. I see her eyes slide closed when I press my mouth against her neck, and the sound of our panting fills the room.

"I hope like hell you have a bed," I murmur against her throat, smiling when her chuckle vibrates against my lips.

"You're in luck," she says, drawing me away from the window and deeper into the apartment, pressing kisses against my ear and jaw. "Perverse as it sounds, I actually like beds; they make for a lovely place to read."

In a flash, I scoop her legs out from under her, grinning to hear her laugh as she lands against me. "It's been a while since I had any occasion to read in bed, so I'll take your word for it," I say, silencing her laughter by kissing her soundly as I head for the bedroom.

Julia lets me undress her, watching me as I pull the clothes from her limbs. I take time to touch her bare skin with my hands and mouth. I lift her on to the bed where she kneels, kissing me while our hands roam and our breaths quicken. She smiles when I break away to undress, her eyes dark with lust. She runs out of patience when I pause, teasing her again. She growls and drags me into the bed while I shout with laughter.

We shift and slide against each other, our mouths and hands moving, her breathy sighs pushing my desire higher. I lay back and pull her on top of me, groaning when she sinks down over me. My hands run over her waist and ribs to cover her breasts, and I buck against her, watching desire wash over her face. Julia meets my thrusts, pressing her hands down on my chest and meeting my lazy smile with her own.

"Jesus Christ," she murmurs, her head lolling back, and the sight of her throat sends another sigh rumbling through me.

"So good." I curl one hand around her waist, and the other moves to press the flesh of her throat. I toss my head back with a hiss when she twists her hips just enough to make me lose my mind. " _Fuck._ "

"Indeed," she agrees with a sweet, moaning sigh, tilting her head down to look at me.

Julia's eyes pull me in, and my breath catches in my throat when she dips her chin to catch my thumb in her mouth, teasing me with her tongue and teeth. I sit up and moving my arm around her shoulders to pull her close, my thumb cradled on her tongue and lips as she gently sucks. Julia's legs are locked around my waist, her heels resting against my ass. She pushes her fingers deep into my hair, breathy little grunts coming from her as she begins to lose herself.

"Oh, _God_ ," she breathes, going still and then trembling against and around me. Her face crumples as she falls and the sounds coming from her make me gasp.

My need crushes me, wipes all thought from my mind. I bury my face and incoherent words in her neck when I crash. She holds me close as I fall, her fingers running through my hair while her cool lips press against my temple.

It is a moment before I can pull myself together enough to look at her. Something fleeting crosses her face, a faraway expression of both longing and sadness, gone almost before I am sure it was there. Her lips meet mine, teasing at first before the kiss grows deeper, and she pulls me back down against her.

The sun is high in the sky when I turn to ask the question I know may earn me a trip out the door. We are lying in the big bed, our legs tangled together, and Julia is idly running her fingers across the tattered sheets that did not survive our couplings.

"Where do you go, afterward?" I run my fingers through her dark hair as I speak, my voice quiet. "Just afterward, when you're coming down, there's something on your face... what are you thinking about, then?"

Julia rolls over to look at me, her eyes and voice soft. "Things I can't have."

I say nothing, running my hands over her skin, moving them from her shoulders to her ass with long strokes.

She doesn't speak for a long time, watching me as I learn the contours of her body. Her eyes darken as her desire grows, and her voice is husky with need when she speaks. "You asked me earlier about Edward influencing my hunting habits. We have argued about them in the past... had disagreements about our choices. But he's never asked me to change."

I don't understand why she talking about Cullen's feeding habits right now, but I know that there is nothing simple about this girl. I slide my fingers into her, watching her eyes shine like polished jet, and lick my lips when I hear her quiet inhalation.

"He's never asked me... but I know Edward values life, _human_ lives, very deeply," she says. "Edward is important to me. His friendship means a great deal. So I try to find value in the same things."

The disdain I feel for her friend grows, becoming anger at the thought that this girl would feel the need to understand his offensive philosophies.

"And have you found that value?" My voice is even and my face blank. I know she cannot read anything from me that betray my feelings.

"Not for myself. For them, yes. I understand why he and his family need to place that value." Her slim fingers run over my neck and shoulder as she speaks, pulling me closer, her lips ghosting over mine. "But for me... it's not there. At least not yet."

It's dark when we rouse ourselves and dress. _Thirst_ is playing in Potrero Hill tonight, and Julia is expected ahead of time for the sound check. She is quiet and her expression grows distant as we prepare to leave. I keep my hand on her shoulder as she locks the door, carrying the guitar case for her as we walk down the stairs. Once we are on the street, she turns to take it from me, and her surprise is evident when I shoulder the bag instead.

"I need a little more time with Marianne," I say, reaching to run my thumb over Julia's wrist. I answer her smile with my own when she takes my hand in hers, drawing me with her into the cool night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More time with the guitar indeed; whatever you say, Daniel.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed that little romp and a chance to get a look at Julia from the outside.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading.
> 
> Note: The song Thirst performs at the end of their Portland set is Black Sabbath's Paranoid, arguably one of the greatest heavy metal songs ever. Plus it has heavy pre-punk overtones and a sick bass line, something I think Julia would appreciate. Green Day and The Queens of the Stone Age are two of the more recent bands to cover the song really well.


	14. Chapter 13: Outtake - New York, 1929

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've had some comments about Julia never getting around to kissing Edward even once. Wonder no more ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These outtakes won't follow any chonological order; I just write whatever comes into my brain.
> 
> Thank you for reading.

_(Outtake)_

One foot in and one foot back  
But it don't pay to live like that  
So I cut the ties and I jumped the tracks  
For never to return  
"I and Love and You" - The Avett Brothers

Edward is laughing softly beside me. His fingers are light around mine as we stand watching the band play, but his enjoyment is evident; I feel it, too. His lovely eyes are dancing with delight as they move over the hundreds of couples dancing, watching their bodies twirl with uncommon grace and energy.

"Come now, admit it; this was a great idea," he murmurs, nudging me gently with his elbow.

"I never claimed it wasn't, Edward," I reply, bemused. "You were the one second guessing yourself all afternoon; and look at you now."

"I'm glad you didn't listen to me," he says with a smile when I press my ear affectionately against his shoulder.

"It's about time you realize that I rarely do." My voice is teasing and he knows I am teasing, even before I press my free hand against his reassuringly.

He nods, chuckling when I playfully nudge him in return. Edward had been concerned that the Savoy would be too crowded tonight, with the battling swing bands bringing so many curious eyes too close for our comfort. When he demurred again just after sunset, I shook my head and nearly dragged him out to hunt before we traveled uptown to the Harlem ballroom.

As Edward predicted, the enormous room is packed to capacity, warm human bodies pressing close even in the quieter areas. The air is hot and thick with the musky scent of skin and breath, and humming with music and excited voices. Though Edward and I move with care, the humans are everywhere, emboldened by bootleg alcohol and the music; we cannot help brushing against their soft limbs from time to time. But the lights in the room have been dimmed enough to throw shadows into the corners that shade our bright crimson eyes. The mortals are so preoccupied with dancing they pay little attention to our two quiet and rather motionless figures.

"I'd like to go someplace quiet after this," I say, tilting my head to press my mouth closer to Edward's ear.

His eyes are shining as he nods, though his brows draw together while he studies my face. "Would you like to leave now? We could go to the beach, if you'd like."

I shake my head and give his arm a fond squeeze. "Absolutely not. You are enjoying this far too much to leave any time soon; I don't want to spend eternity listening to you moan about my having dragged you out of the Savoy on your birthday."

Edward's laughter draws the eyes of the humans around us. Their faces are dazed as they smile, enamored by a beautiful young man's enjoyment. Edward draws his arm out from under my hands, threading it around my shoulders and drawing me into his side.

Edward has been in New York with me for nearly a year. The months are filled with discovery and a feeling of excitement I have never known before. We are strangers at home in this strange land and our experiences are both familiar and foreign; even mundane moments seem somehow new.

We explore the city and countryside around us with abandon, buoyed by Edward's enthusiasm to do everything and try anything. There are films to see, art exhibitions to attend, and night after night of music ranging through every genre. We consume books and newspapers, attend lectures and performances, and talk endlessly about what we are learning. We spend long hours writing and sharing music, each pushing the other to find new composers and pieces to better our playing. Edward wants very much to attend baseball games, but the sun confounds us.

For all of the busy and productive hours, there are also days and nights spent seeking silence from the metropolis around us. There are miles of coastline and vast forested areas that allow us to race freely over sands and among trees. We climb through the skeletal structures of the skyscrapers under construction in Midtown and explore the underground subway tunnels snaking under the streets. We climb the bridges spanning the rivers and bays, and pass long nights under the ceiling of stars with little else to hear but the wind rushing around our voices and us.

As always, we are meticulous when we hunt, staying close to the most dangerous neighborhoods where there is an abundance of prey for which few have any regard. The recent stock market collapse and resulting economic depression has caused the number of lost and desperate souls in the city to swell enormously, sending scores of downtrodden humans filtering into areas most suited to our habits. We discover early on that the most forlorn are eager to forfeit their lives, exhausted into despair by day-to-day hardships that compel them to adopt criminal activities. There are nights when hunting becomes an irrelevant exercise as we simply follow the thoughts Edward overhears to murderous thugs who welcome oblivion at the hand of dark angels.

It is just past three in the morning when the bands in the Savoy finish playing. Edward and I join the crowds streaming out of the ballroom into the predawn streets, moving with care amongst the tired and happy revelers until we can slide into the shadows of an alley. With the rising sun in mind, we turn northeast, racing each other out of the city toward a rambling public park by Pelham Bay.

We walk on the deserted beach as the sky slowly brightens and move into the woods after sunrise, mindful of the humans that are waking all over the city. The woods border a salt marsh wildlife sanctuary and are deliciously still. The silence amplifies our low voices as we talk about the music we heard earlier in the evening.

"Dance with me," Edward says, holding out his hand with a warm smile. "There's no one around to see or crash into; I daresay even the trees are safe from any potential mishaps."

"Oh, Edward, if that was a crack about my dancing abilities it was sadly inaccurate," I say ruefully. "I am certainly lighter on my feet than you, I'd venture to guess."

He shakes his head at me slowly, doffing his hat so his untidy hair falls about. "You, my dear, have no idea just how wrong you are. I have it on good authority that I am an excellent dancer, capable of sweeping even the most careless partner off her feet."

"Well, let's have it then," I reply and step forward into his outstretched arms, chuckling when he claps his hat back on.

Though swing and the Lindy are all the rage amongst the humans at this time, Edward pulls me into an easy foxtrot, humming as we move through the trees. I lean back to watch him and smile when I see his eyes are free of shadows.

"I like you like this," I say.

"Like what?" he asks with a grin.

"Easy. Lighthearted."

"Is it so rare to see me so?" Edward's eyes are touched with sadness, and I wish I had kept silent.

"Not at all," I say gently. "I meant only that dancing in the woods is rather whimsical, even for us."

Neither of us speaks of the guilt he struggles against each time we hunt, or the battles his conscience wages with his instinct. We have talked at length about his conflicted feelings and my lack thereof, but our conversations change nothing; at our core, we remain very different predators. Edward tries to hide his feelings from me just as I feign ignorance, each of us knowing it's all an act.

The much more painful guilt haunting Edward is his partial estrangement from his adoptive parents, Carlisle and Esme. While he corresponds with them regularly, Edward has not seen them since leaving Wisconsin last year. Several times, he has made plans to journey west only to cancel at the last moment. Most recently, I offered to accompany him at least as far as Wisconsin, assuring him I would wait for him outside of town if he preferred to see his parents alone. We made it as far as Penn Station, even buying tickets before Edward's face fell. Wordlessly, he sank onto a bench in the terminal, his lips pressed tightly together in distress, unable even to meet my eyes. Though he could not bring himself to board, we sat together until the last train of the evening pulled out before silently returning to the apartment.

We find a particularly pretty ring of trees as we dance, the branches growing far enough apart overhead to allow a circle of sunlight to fall over the mossy floor where we toss our hats. Sprawling warm and lazy on the turf, we talk while the midday light fractures into rainbows on our skin. We know that Edward will hear the thoughts of any human approaching in time for us to withdraw further into the woods.

"Your hair is so gingery in this light," I say, reaching up to brush a stubborn lock that has fallen onto his forehead.

"And yours is really dark," Edward replies dryly, making me laugh. My hair is as sleek as his is unruly and black as a crow's wing against his rich auburn, unchanging whether wet or dry; Edward enjoys pretending to mistake my hair for a dark hat.

He is humming again as he threads his right arm loosely under my shoulders, drawing me closer until his chin rests on the top of my head.

"Do you miss sleeping?" he asks, his voice rumbling in his chest.

"Not very often," I confess, watching the sunlight dance through the leaves of the trees. "There were times, just after Miranda left, when I thought it would be nice to shut my eyes and not have to think. But I don't miss sleep."

Edward hums thoughtfully. "I'd like to be able to get away from hearing thoughts."

I am quiet for a moment as I process Edward's words. "You can do that by being alone, can't you?"

"I can get away from the thoughts of others, yes," Edward replies quietly. "But my own thoughts are always present; they are impossible to escape."

I run my fingers softly over Edward's shoulder, struck by his comments. "Are your thoughts so difficult to bear?"

"Well, that all depends on the particular thoughts, I suppose," Edward says with a shrug. "Regardless, they are certainly always there."

We lie quietly for a time as the day deepens. A slight breeze blows our scents upwind, concealing our presence from a small herd of deer passing by a short distance away.

"What about dreams," I venture at last. "Do you miss the dreaming more than sleep?"

Edward's tone is thoughtful when he replies, and I know he is as intrigued by this conversation as I. "No, I don't think so. It's hard to say, now that they're gone. If I'd had the foresight to know those things would be lost to me, I might have paid more attention. I think sometimes that it's because I can't have them that they are so appealing."

"I'm not sure I remember what dreams are like," I admit sheepishly.

"There's truth in that, now that I think about it," Edward says lightly after a moment. "I can't remember my dreams either; I may not have remembered them even when I _could_ dream. But so much of that time is lost now, or too hazy to be reliable."

I raise myself up on my elbow and lay my left ear against my upturned palm so I can see Edward's expression. "What _do_ you remember from before you were changed? Remember clearly, I mean; nothing half formed or muddled."

"My mother's face," Edward says without hesitation, meeting my eyes as a tender smile crosses his face. "I remember her surprisingly well. My father, though less clearly. It's his smile I remember best, and his eyes. Some of the last conversations we all had, as a family. Playing the piano in the music room of our house. But most of what I remember is, as you say, half-formed."

"Have you ever thought of returning to Chicago?"

"No. When my parents died, there was nothing there for me. Even their house... without them in it, I just didn't see the point of staying." Edward's lips quirk up in a small smile that is not quite happy. "I have feelings and impressions about the city and what it was like before I was changed, but there's nothing concrete to draw me back there."

"Once you open these eyes," I say, making mine wide for effect. "It's difficult to focus backward on those memories."

"What do you remember, Julia?" Edward props himself up to look at me. He finds our hats squashed underneath his shoulder, and tosses them a short distance away with a chuckle.

I close my eyes for a moment, and lick my lips as I call my memories forward. "My father... I almost have his voice. Sitting in his car as he taught me drive. My sister, Diana. Her hair was dark like mine, but hung in curls; she was very put out when she realized she couldn't wear the same hairstyle I had chosen."

"And have you not wanted to keep up with your family as it changed over the years?" There is a wistful tone in Edward's voice as he asks me about my human family that I understand. Being an only child and an orphan, Edward has a natural curiosity about the genetic ties that bind humans together.

"No." I shake my head. "It's been a long time. My once younger sister is nearly twice my age now. If I were to meet her, how could I explain my nineteen-year-old self?"

"And you're not even the least bit curious? About her children or her life?"

"Sometimes. But its better that I remember who and what I am."

"Is it better for you or for your sister?" Edward's expression is serious as he regards me.

"It's better for both of us. Miranda once told me to be careful around humans. She said that they were easy to become attached to." I cannot help the frown that crosses my face and I focus my gaze on the mossy floor between us. "That humans, despite their fragile state, can be quite dangerous to our kind."

"Do you think that's true?"

"I have no doubt. Becoming attached to something that, by nature, we must kill in order to survive is the pinnacle of perverse."

Edward is quiet for a long moment before speaking again. "Do you miss Miranda terribly?"

I am surprised by this rapid change of topic, and find myself bristling. But the pensive expression in Edward's eyes quells my irritation.

"I would think I miss her in much the same way you miss Carlisle and Esme," I reply, very gently.

Edward's face draws with sadness at my words, and now it is his eyes cast on the turf between us. I lay my free hand over his, filled with sympathy when he sinks back down against the moss with a soft sigh.

"I'm sorry, Edward," I say, pressing his fingers in an effort to comfort him. "Remember that they want you. Carlisle and Esme will wait until you are ready to see them again. They'll _always_ want you."

"Is that the worst part for you?" Edward voice is low with emotion and I know he is changing topics to control his pain. "Not knowing what happened to Miranda?"

He squeezes my hand to reassure me that he is truly interested in my answer.

"Yes." My reply is immediate. "Not knowing where she went or what became of her... it is still shocking. It didn't make sense to come back to our home and realize she was just gone."

The sunlight glints in Edward's eyes, lighting them with red fire. "I sometimes think that's why you prefer to be alone; it's your way of ensuring something like that doesn't happen again."

"Mmm, very clever, Dr. Freud," I murmur with a roll of my eyes. "I think the fact that I'm not alone, however, debunks your theory."

Edward chuckles, and a spark of humor catches when I scowl horribly at him. His laughter grows, ringing through the trees and startling a pair of jaybirds that noisily protest from a nearby tree. This only makes Edward laugh harder and soon, I am giggling, too, pressing my fingers gently against his lips to shush him.

"I think we should take a trip." The smile is still in Edward's eyes as he looks at me, his words muffled beneath my fingers before I can move them.

"Where do you want to go?" I reply with a laugh, running my fingers quickly over his dear face.

Rolling to face me, he props himself up with an elbow and his face is alight with excitement. "Both of us are interested in airships; we should take a ride in one."

For a moment, I am so surprised I can only blink while watching Edward's smile broaden. "You want to fly in a zeppelin?"

"And you don't?" Edward's retort is playful, bringing a laugh bubbling from my chest. "Come on, Julia, you've talked about airships since we first met; I _know_ you want to ride in one."

"Of course I do, you ridiculous creature," I scold. "You just caught me by surprise. When you mentioned taking a trip, I thought you were going to suggest we go south or out west. It never occurred to me that you'd say 'let's fly in a zeppelin'."

"I wouldn't say that at all, actually; I prefer the term dirigible."

"Only because it's more difficult to say."

"Untrue," Edward quips. "A zeppelin is some kind of human food from what I understand, which I find bizarre."

I shake my head at him. "You mean zeppola; it's a kind of cake from Italy."

"You're a pastry expert now?" Edward's eyebrows arch playfully as he nudges me with his knuckles. "Is there something you want to tell me, Julia?"

"Yes, you may as well know," I deadpan. "I've decided to open an all-night bakery for pastry-craving, insomniac humans. I'm calling it _Ed's Eats_."

Edward pounces on me with a growl that is nearly drowned out by my wild laughter. In an instant, I shove him off and leap to my feet, readying myself to sprint away. But his hands are on me before I can blink, and he pulls me back down to the ground in a heap.

"Don't call me Ed," he warns with a wicked grin, wrapping his long hands around my shoulders to pin me against the ground. Edward is not fond of nicknames and dislikes "Ed" in particular.

"Fine," I return, trying to control my giggling. " _Eddie's Eats_ then."

Edward's eyes gleam with a mixture of chagrin and amusement as he bends closer, his face crinkling in laughter. "Julia, I'm warning you."

Quite without thinking, I pick my head up off the ground and kiss him, catching his lower lip between mine. Edward's lips are so soft, much softer than I had ever imagined. Our eyes are wide and locked on each other's as our laughter abruptly quiets. Edward grows still, just as I have, and his breath catches in his throat.

I come back to myself with a startled blink. Edward's eyes are dazed when I pull back, resting my head on the ground again.

"I didn't mean to do that, Edward," I say with a quiet gasp. "I'm just-"

My words are cut off when Edward's lips press against mine with a tenderness that staggers me. It is a chaste kiss and so gentle, but every inch of me crackles with something that feels like life. My skin is taut, like an overripe berry on the verge of bursting, and my nerves sing under my skin, causing me to feel everything with an acuity so fine I could scream. _Oh my god._ I am weightless, flying as Edward's hands squeeze my shoulders tighter and he presses down against me.

Feelings I have never known before barrel through me with the force of a freight train. My chest swells with emotion and desire for this man, Edward, my friend and confidante. I want more, so much more. A quiet, sighing groan escapes me and my trembling hands move to grip his waist before I can stop them.

My touch brings Edward back to his senses. He draws back abruptly, his eyes first startled and then blazing with remorse. He rolls away, sitting up with his back to me, sinking his hands into his hair as his shoulders bow.

I lay frozen on the ground beside him, my useless breaths coming fast. My hands are open and grasping at nothing. I close my eyes and my insides twist painfully under the weight of realization that is crashing over me. _He doesn't feel what I am feeling._

"Oh, Julia. I'm sorry," Edward says. His voice is subdued with sorrow. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine. I kissed you first." My voice is steady and so much calmer than I feel. A laugh nearly escapes me as I remember that my outward composure is wasted on Edward, who hears all of my thoughts.

His hands are on mine then and I know he has turned back to me when he gently pulls me up to sit. I allow him to pull me into his embrace, resting my cheek against his shoulder as he rubs my back in slow, soothing circles. But I am writhing inwardly, ready to roar in frustration, and it takes enormous effort to remain still in his arms.

"I didn't realize," he murmurs against my ear. "I didn't know you would feel such things for me."

A humorless laugh escapes me in a huff that makes us both stiffen, though Edward pulls me even closer after a moment.

My voice is tight with barely suppressed hostility when I manage a reply. "I'm not sure I realized my feelings either, if that makes you feel any better. I certainly don't understand them now."

We sit, silently huddled together in the ring of trees until the sun has set, and the nighttime sounds of the woods are rising through the cooling air. When Edward loosens his hold on me, I feel myself begin to come apart, like a dam slowly breaking. I hurriedly flush my mind of all thought when he grasps my elbow to help me to my feet.

"You go on ahead," I tell him quietly, laying my hand on his and hoping he will spare me an argument. "I'd like to stay a while longer."

His eyes flash over my face, concern clear in his expression. "Are you sure? I'll wait for you, Julia; you know I don't mind. Then we can go back together. I don't want to fight with you."

I shake my head slowly, my lips curling up in what I hope is a convincing smile. "We're not fighting. I just... I need some time to think, to make sure my head is on straight."

"I'm sorry about... earlier," he says, the earnest regret in his eyes driving a pain through me that steals my breath. "I just wanted-"

I focus on waving off his apology, slowly inhaling until I can reply. "I'll see you later, Edward."

Edward's reluctance to leave is obvious as he pulls his hat back on; his lovely face is troubled when he climbs to his feet. He walks slowly out of the park are slow and stops once as if to double back, while I sit waiting, emptying my head of thoughts as best I can. But at last, he disappears into the early evening darkness, leaving me alone.

I get to my feet and dash through the park, running until my feet hit the sand of the beach and then the water. The seawater brushes my lips as I swim, and the salty tang works its way onto my tongue as I make my way out of the bay into the colder, rougher water of the Sound. Hart Island is close by and, what's more, fits my current state of mind quite well.

I make my way on shore and stop under the trees that line the potter's field. Sitting against a young tree, I close my eyes and laugh when I consider how poorly I have planned this sudden detour. I am, for all intents and purposes, a teenage girl in a sodden, ruined dress and shoes on an island housing a prison, a field of anonymous graves, and a host of abandoned buildings. But I have no doubt that Edward will return to the park during my absence, and use my scent to find me. Crossing the water has bought me some much needed privacy. I need time by myself knowing my thoughts are mine alone.

I stay away for two days, finally returning to Edward's apartment in the darkest part of the night. When I let myself in the door, my eyes fall at once on the small table in the foyer. The hat I had forgotten at the park is there, confirming that Edward returned at some point to look for me.

I make my way through the many rooms, finding them empty and silent, though Edward's scent is fresh. Discarding my still damp clothes, I run a bath and wash the salt from my skin and hair slowly, savoring the delicious heat of the water for a long time. Dressed once more, I find myself in the living room where my cello stands by the piano. Though my thoughts are too snarled to play, the polished wood beneath my fingers is unaccountably soothing. I leave the bow untouched and run notes from Bartok's String Quartet 3 through my head, my hands resting easily on the cello's body.

"Where have you been?" Edward's quiet words are measured but his eyes simmer with distress as he stands in the doorway.

"I needed to think. I told you that, Edward," I reply truthfully while evading his question.

"Needing time to think is one thing," he murmurs, brows drawing together. "Two days without any word is altogether different."

"Not for me. I understand that you and your family need that kind of regular contact," I say, my emotions beginning to swirl even as I fight them. "But I'm not like that. I'm not like you."

Edward comes to crouch at my feet, his expression torn as he takes my hands in his. "Don't, Julia. Don't close yourself off like that, not now."

"Christ, Edward, I'm telling you the truth." My voice is tight and I pull my hands away from him.

My mood grows darker when Edward moves the cello carefully aside and recaptures my hands, shaking his head slowly. "You're not telling the truth, or at least not the whole truth. You've never gone missing for days before. And you didn't disappear because you needed time alone. You did it because of what happened in the park the other day."

"I'm over what happened the other day," I retort stiffly. "We made a mistake; it's not the end of the world."

"A mistake?" Edward's eyes grow wide with disbelief. "Is that what you think it was?"

"What else would you call two people testing the boundaries of their friendship and failing?" I exclaim. But the mounting pain in Edward's face takes me by surprise and I feel my anger draining away.

Tentatively, he reaches to touch my cheek, his fingers moving softly over my skin as if to soothe me. "I know it was surprising, for us both. I'm sorry things didn't go as we might have hoped and even more so that it's hurting us. But I can't think of it as a mistake."

"I wish I could say the same," I whisper miserably, moving my hands to cup his face. I lean to press my forehead against his, my eyes clenched closed against the roaring emotions inside me.

Edward's fingers curl around my wrists and I hear him murmuring softly, his words meant to comfort me. "It wasn't a mistake. We'll figure it out, Julia."

It is dawn when we make our way to the piano, sitting side by side while Edward plays quietly at my request. The notes from a composition he has been working on fill the room as it grows lighter by degrees and my dead heart grows heavy under a deluge of chaotic emotions.

I want terribly to wind my arms around his waist and rest my head against his shoulder. I want him to tell me again that things will be all right and we will find a way to get past this. I want him to kiss me, to open my mouth against his, and feel his hands and lips move against me until I can hardly know my own name. And more than anything, I am terrified and want to run, to turn my back on this city and Edward, moving until the road ends beneath my feet.

"Don't go, Julia," Edward says, very softly, as if he does not trust himself to speak. His head bows over the keys as if weighed down with sorrow.

"I - I wouldn't," I reply haltingly. "I wouldn't do that, Edward."

"I can _hear_ you, Julia," he says, closing his eyes. "Don't tell me something that we both know isn't true. I can't bear it."

"I do want to leave, Edward, in the worst way," I admit with a frown. "But I'm not going anywhere. I'm still here. And if I did leave, I would never go without telling you."

Edward says nothing and I slide closer, stilling his hands on the keys before winding my arms around him. I sigh when he turns at once to do the same, swallowing against the tightness in my throat before I can speak again. "I promise; I will never leave without telling you and why. I wouldn't do that to _anyone_ and especially not to you."

He hums quietly in agreement, his cheek pressing against my temple while I lean against him. "And I promise you the same, Julia. I won't leave without telling you why."

The ticking clock on the mantle is the only sound in the room for some time, overlaying the soft hum of traffic and human voices rising from the street below. When at last I pull back to look at Edward I am saddened by the guilt in his eyes; he is suffering with the knowledge that he has hurt me. I brush his cheeks with the backs of my fingers, and my eyes sting when he captures my hands and presses them gently over his silent heart.

"I was curious, when you kissed me," Edward says. There is a terrible mixture of regret and confusion on his face. "It felt... wonderful, really. I had no idea something so simple could feel like that."

I nod, swallowing hard to keep my emotions at bay. I cannot speak, knowing my unsteady voice will push my composure over the edge.

"I thought that maybe if I kissed you again, I'd feel something beyond pleasure," he says, his eyes pleading with me to understand.

"Perhaps it's all right if that's all you feel," I murmur without meaning to. The surprise on Edward's face pains me and I find I cannot meet his eyes. "Is it so terrible to want to feel pleasure?"

"Is that all you feel, Julia? Only pleasure?" His voice is impossibly soft, hardly more than a breath.

My eyes close and I bow my head at the pain radiating through me, unable to reply for a moment. "No. I feel more. So much more."

"You deserve more than just pleasure, Julia," Edward says. The way his breath ghosts over my cheeks tells me he is leaning closer. "I hoped that if I kissed you, I'd feel something _more_. I want that, so badly."

Edward's voice grows heavy with grief. "But I didn't stop to think it through... that I might hurt you."

"You couldn't have known," I reply quietly. "I have always felt something for you, Edward, something more than friendship. But it was always something I could understand... something I could tame. The other day, however... it changed."

"Why did you come back? What keeps you here with me?"

I open my eyes and see fear in his. I know he is uncertain that I will continue to accept the new imbalance in our friendship.

"You woke me up, Edward," I reply with a long sigh. "After Miranda left... I was suspended, asleep with my eyes open, in a way. I was afraid to feel anything after she'd gone, for so many reasons. After a while, I learned to cope with her absence... with being alone. I understood how to get through each day and live in a way that didn't call attention to myself. I existed, but I was frozen.

"That changed when I met you," I say with a small smile. "Something about getting to know you brought me out of that state. When we parted in Chicago, I couldn't go back to the way I'd been; I couldn't go back to sleep. And every day since we met, I've woken a bit more."

Gently, I pull my hands from Edward's and lay my fingers on the piano keys. I nod gently when his brow creases, and my hands move slowly through the opening bars of the composition he had been playing earlier. After a moment, Edward returns my smile, his eyes filled with gratitude. His hands take up where I have left off, and his music fills the space around and between us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admit it: you love playful Edward. And you'd totally scarf midnight pastries from Ed'sEats.
> 
> We'll be catching up with Daniel and Julia again next time because they really are too much fun, despite Daniel being a... well you know.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading.
> 
> Note: I don't know if bootleg liquor was available or consumed at the Savoy Ballroom; please indulge my creative license, if you would.


	15. Chapter 14: Outtake – Chicago, 1987

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of graphic violence.

_(Outtake)_

Climbing forever trying  
Find your way out - of the wild wild wood  
Now there's no justice  
There's only yourself - that you can trust in _  
_"Wild Wood" - Paul Weller

It's been years since I last set foot in Chicago. My memories of that trip are hazy, at best, seen through the eyes of the human boy I once was. I had been fantastically drunk for many of the hours I spent in the city, visiting as many bars and strip clubs as I and my friends could manage.

Tonight, I see everything through the eyes of the vampire I have become. Each image is branded effortlessly into my memory like a photograph. I follow the long, straight streets of the city, watching the architecture change as I travel north. It's mid-summer and the air is hot and thick with humidity. The humans moving around me are barely dressed, exposing long stretches of fragrant skin in an effort to stay cool.

"Hey, handsome." The voice is a drawl from a knot of young men passing by, their murmurs of appreciation making me smile.

I could take a taxi to the club, but the overwhelmingly tempting smells lingering inside the cabs are difficult to ignore when I am alone. Subways, with their long cars, are slightly less difficult in terms of smell. There are, however, many curious human eyes, and they are something I want to avoid in my present state. Having fed earlier in the evening, my eyes are ruby bright and could garner attention I do not want. Walking is simpler.

The club is in a basement near the Loyola campus, half a dozen blocks inland from the lakeshore. Music spills out past the metal door at the entrance, heavy drum and bass lines overlaid with layers of electronic beats. The dub is fluid, tempos constantly shifting and changing.

Droves of attractive young men and the occasional woman drift down the stairs, their eyes moving over me with curiosity and undisguised desire. The smells of hundreds of humans perfume the air, sweet sweat and salty skin mixed with alcohol, smoke, and drugs. But it's easy to find her scent trail underneath everything; I smell fresh cedar and vanilla with blackberry notes. Julia is inside.

Downstairs, the basement space is gloomy and intensely crowded, the walls lined with banks of speakers. Flashes of light illuminate the figures on the massive dance floor, throwing the human forms in stark relief. The darkness is scorching and alive, pulsing with the movements of the men dancing and the deep house beats. The sound of thousands of mortal hearts beating over the writhing music wakes my thirst; I want to feed.

Deep in the midst of the gleaming bodies on the floor, a flash of white draws my eye. I make my way into the crowd with care, pushing gently past the soft bodies. The young men do not let me pass unnoticed. Hot hands reach out to brush against my arms and chest, damp fingers stirring my hair and trailing over my face and neck. Soft voices murmur all around me, the admiring whispers audible under the music. They wonder at my cool skin. They promise pleasure, bargaining and coaxing with death in their ignorance. The sweet smell of so many eager young bodies quickly becomes too much; I have to hold my breath, swallowing against the venom that fills my mouth.

Julia's sweet, woody scent fills my nose in a rush at the same moment I see her. She is the only female visible in the crowd of beautiful men and boys. She is like a shaft of bright light in the gloom, cool and white against the sweat-slicked honey and coffee tones of the humans' skins. The men are dancing with her and around her, at once together and singular, her slim body swaying against theirs. Everywhere, hungry hands are moving and seeking, playing over hair and lips, caressing the sweet curve of a hip, whispering around a waist, brushing against a collarbone. My hunger leaps as I watch them, burning my belly and throat, and I feel myself grow hard.

It's been more than six months since I last saw Julia. But it takes just those few seconds to see something is different about her. There is an air of abandon about her that I have never seen. She is always careful around humans and skilled at concealing herself by insinuating herself among them. As is common with our kind, her looks attract attention effortlessly. But in this moment, everything about Julia begs to be appraised and coveted, even by these men for whom women hold little appeal. Tonight, her front has slipped enough to be noticed by human and vampire eyes.

Her clothes are more abbreviated than I have ever seen her wear, the tight black T-shirt and skirt displaying a great deal of her long and very smooth limbs. Her subtly inhuman motions and the gleam in her eyes are startling, but the humans cannot look away. Instead, they are drawn to the beautiful and slightly frightening girl. They press around her and are wholly unaware of the danger she presents. I realize with a start that her eyes are inky black with either hunger or bloodlust; at this point, her hunger can only be excruciating.

It strikes me that while I have watched Julia hunt both men and beasts; I am now glimpsing her as a true predator. Whatever mortal construct she normally assumes and despite her efforts to restrict her prey to animals, she is a vampire. She is wired to stalk and lure humans, wooing and seducing before the kill. She is meant to make her prey fall in love before their terror overwhelms them.

Julia turns to make her way through the crowd, leaving a trail of dazed looking young men in her wake. I keep far enough back as I follow to continue observing without crossing her path. It's unlikely she is not aware of my presence, but I like watching the way she moves and know she will forgive my playing voyeur.

There is a brief flurry of movement just before Julia reaches the exit, and two men stepping forward to flank her. Their hard faces would surely worry a mortal girl alone in the city at this late hour. But Julia smiles at each in turn, taking care to meet their eyes before pushing through the door. The men exchange startled looks before hastening to catch up with her as she climbs toward the street.

"Where are you off to in such a rush, honey?" One of them is asking when I reach the top stair.

"Nowhere in particular," Julia replies. The heels of her boots click cheerily on the pavement. I can hear the smile in her voice when she continues, offering a veiled warning. "You boys should be on your way, you know. The streets aren't safe this late at night."

As Julia no doubt intended, the men find this terribly funny. They are loose with laughter and the beer they consumed earlier in the night.

"Don't you worry about us, honey," the smaller of the two says slyly. He is the talkative member of the duo, the negotiator and charmer. "No one messes with me or my buddy."

"Don't you mean your lover?" Julia's voice colors just slightly with danger, though the men don't sense it; something in their intentions has caught her attention in particular. "Or do you boys swing both ways?"

"Uh-uh, you've got it all wrong," the man replies, the humor draining from his voice. "We're not-"

"Well that's interesting," Julia says smoothly, cutting him off, "I can't imagine what you two would be doing in a gay bar then. If you don't like boys-"

"We're not queer," the other man mutters, speaking for the first time. He is a burly specimen, his large frame suggesting power. He curls a meaty hand around Julia's upper arm, pulling her into his side. Turning into an alley to the right, he leads her with a rough tug and the smaller man trails behind.

When I reach the mouth of the alley, the men have corralled Julia into deepest shadows behind a dumpster overflowing with trash. Her back is pressed against a dirty, damp wall, and the men believe they are blocking her escape. Julia's hands are loose at her sides, and her face is open and interested as she looks calmly from one thug to the other. Her eyes glitter like scarabs in the low light from the street. I can almost feel her thirst.

"I don't fuck boys, lady. And neither does Jimmy," the burly one says, jerking his head at his companion. He runs his thick fingers along Julia's arm, moving his hand very deliberately from her wrist to her shoulder. I can't imagine what he thinks of her cool, hard skin.

"Perhaps that's true," she replies, a lopsided smile crooking her mouth unevenly. "But you certainly seem to enjoy fucking them up, now don't you?"

The men pause, clearly startled by Julia's words and her clear lack of alarm. I am struck by her use of profanity, something I have never heard from her.

"That's what you were doing at the club tonight, isn't it? Looking for a pretty boy to terrify and scar. Someone to make you feel better about yourselves, if even for a few minutes." Julia's smile widens as she plucks the big one's hand from her arm, halting its circuit over her skin before she drops it. "You've done it before, plenty of times. Does it make you feel good? Hurting boys?"

The smaller man, Jimmy, takes a step back. His internal warnings have begun to sound, warning him away from the petite girl with the pixie face and shining teeth. His voice is hoarse, weakened by surprise when he speaks. "How do you...? What are you talking about?"

"I know all about what you like to do to the boys you find. And I know you had worse planned for me." Julia's smile fades as she steps toward him, her hands coming up to link loosely around Jimmy's neck. "You don't fuck those boys, though I suspect your big friend here has been thinking about it lately.

"But me... you were going to take turns holding me down. Take turns watching each other with me. Isn't that right?" Julia is holding Jimmy, her torso pressed against his with the intimacy of a lover as the burly one watches, mesmerized.

Julia turns to press her lips to Jimmy's ear, her chin ghosting his left shoulder. Her whisper is low and filled with menace. "Would you have beaten me too, Jimmy? Would you have done your best to give this dirty girl what she deserved?"

Julia's eyes flick to mine over the Jimmy's shoulder, our gazes locked. Her lips draw back from her teeth with a flash before sinking into the man's throat. My desire for her, always intense, explodes. I can't stop from echoing her guttural groan as she drains the man, pulling the blood into her mouth in greedy droughts. Jimmy is dead in moments, slumping into Julia's arms with open, staring eyes.

It happens so quickly, the burly man almost doesn't notice his friend's plight, awareness dawning only after Jimmy's corpse hit the ground. He backs away, his face blank with shock, and whirls to flee directly into my arms, as I am sure Julia intended. His panicked whimper rings in my ears as he struggles helplessly against the stone arms that cage him.

In a flash, Julia's face appears over his shoulder, her eyes brilliant with blood, and her mouth moist with venom. Her wide-eyed gaze reflects the scene and I watch my own face, darkened by bloodlust, and the struggles of the frantic human pinned between us. I can't stop myself from leaning forward to brush my lips against Julia's, grunting when her tongue slips over mine. I can taste traces of blood in her mouth, and feel it zing through my body like an electrical charge.

A growl fills my chest as I pull away from her, my teeth biting flesh and sweet heat pouring into my mouth. My eyes slide closed and I drink. Julia's hands play over my hips, drawing an even deeper growl from me. None of my kind has ever gotten this close when I have fed and certainly none has ever touched me so intimately. The urge to attack is overwhelming. The predator inside me wants to protect the kill from a rival, but the man that also remains has greater needs. It's all I can do to stop myself from grinding against the man I am killing in an effort to reach her.

There is no way Julia does not recognize the danger she is putting herself in. The recklessness I recognized earlier shows itself again when one of her hands snakes forward to palm me against the fly of my jeans. A loud, moaning growl rolls through me and I instinctively jerk the man in my arms closer, snapping his bones when my hips buck forward against her hand.

I drop the corpse hastily when the flow of blood ebbs, pushing it aside with my foot before stepping into Julia's embrace. Our mouths meet and our hands move urgently, touching and stroking, pulling each other closer. I'm trembling as Julia sinks her hands deep in my hair, and runs the pads of her fingers over my scalp. We're both breathing heavily when we pull apart and Julia's expression is lean and hungry.

"Half a year and you show up half-naked with a meal in tow." I can't help grinning, running my hands from the small of her back over her ass. "If this is your way of saying you missed me, I like it."

She shrugs, the humor clear in her face as she eyes the dead men. "I kept you waiting long enough. And you were very patient with me. I thought a reward was in order."

"It was worth the wait," I mutter in a low voice, bending to kiss the smooth expanse of skin on her sternum.

Julia freezes for an instant before her hands gently cup my face, bringing my eyes level with hers.

"Are you getting sentimental on me, Daniel?" Her tone is teasing but her eyes are sharp in their appraisal.

"If I were, how would you feel about that?" I meet her penetrating gaze calmly, knowing from our past encounters how easily Julia's emotional barometer is tipped.

"I'm not sure," she admits slowly, but there is a soft gleam in her eyes. "I know it's been a while since I saw you last but... I suppose I'd wonder if you had sustained some kind of head injury."

"That's my girl."

My desire leaps again, storming through me when she leans to press a kiss against my lips. We are both smiling when she pulls back and I raise my hand to tuck a lock of black hair behind her ear.

"Help me clean up," she urges, running her hands over the thin fabric of my shirt, inclining her head toward the dead men at our feet.

Julia's propensity for picking locks and hot wiring cars make short work of stealing a ride from around the corner. We head toward the industrial corridor of the city with the dead men lying on the backseat. The late hour makes it easy to slip into the building housing the massive incinerator the city uses to burn garbage. Within seconds, the bodies have disappeared into the furnace that belches smoke into the night sky.

Amusingly, Julia insists we return the car to the same neighborhood from where we stole it. Her low laughter is always persuasive, as are the fingers she presses against my thigh. She even manages to find a parking place very close to the original spot before we slip into the shadows.

"Come on, there's something I want to show you," Julia says, tucking her hand in the crook of my elbow to pull me along.

I want her closer and pull my arm from her grasp, instead draping it over her shoulders and neck. The attraction between us, always heady, is buzzing. I want to push her against the alley wall and bury myself between her legs. But Julia is on the move, and I follow, humming with pleasure when her hand steals along my waist.

We walk the few blocks to the lakeshore, our steps in sync, and then turn south to move along the water. The trail is too well lit for running but there are few pedestrians at this time of night, enabling us to move just above a human pace.

Julia guides me back toward the city as we near the downtown area, moving easily through the streets and among the towers in the Loop. We turn into an alley by an apartment that abuts Millennium Park, and stop on the silent loading dock behind the building. Julia's eyes twinkle with mischief when she turns to me. She springs without warning, catching hold of the underside of the balcony closest to the street. In a flash, she has swung herself left and is climbing rapidly, using the corners and edges of the bricks in the wall. The short skirt she's wearing affords me a fantastic view of her bare legs and I spend a few moments staring before her low, teasing whistle sounds from above. I follow with a cheeky mutter, smiling at the sound of her soft laughter.

Julia is at a fire door set in a wall when I pull myself over the top of the building. She gives me a sly smile as she opens the door, showing me into the penthouse apartment. It's a massive open space and lavishly furnished. Glass walls on three sides of the space offer a stunning view of the city and Lake Michigan.

"Be it ever so humble," she murmurs, pocketing her keys. She presses buttons on a panel next to door to power on lights and the sound system, which pumps sinuous house beats though the air.

I am on her in a moment, pushing the hair back from her face as our mouths open against each other. A needy noise comes out of one of us, maybe me, when our tongues brush. She pulls me in a half circle before pushing her hands against my chest, walking me backward while I try to get my arms around her.

My back hits a wall and we each give a little grunt, our kiss deepening before I feel Julia reaching to my left.

"Here," she murmurs against my lips, and I hear a door pop open as her hand snakes up under my shirt. Her fingers whisper over my nipple, pulling a strangled groan from me, and then she pushes me backward again, this time out into the fresh air.

The quiet sound of lapping water finally pulls me away from Julia's mouth. Glancing around I see we are standing by a long rooftop pool, blue lights glowing under the water's surface. The city skyline spreads into the night beyond the edges of the roof, and the surrounding buildings illuminate the air with soft light.

Julia pulls out of my arms but before I can complain, and her hands move to the hem of her T-shirt.

"I know it's extravagant," she says, nodding at the apartment behind me. In one swift movement, she pulls the shirt over her head, revealing a tiny undershirt made entirely of lace. She slips her feet out of her boots and I watch her fingers at the waistband of her skirt, lazily flipping open the belt buckle. "But sometimes a girl just needs a little luxury, even if it's rented and only temporary."

"It's not bad, I suppose. Though we could have gone swimming in the lake," I tease, mesmerized by her slow strip tease. My smile fades as her skirt whispers over a pair of tiny lace pants, before sliding down her legs to puddle on the deck. A low growl rumbles through my chest at the sight of her stepping out of the skirt and striding toward the edge of the pool.

"The lake is nice enough, but I like the view from up here," she says. A breeze shifts her hair against her face as she stands looking at the skyline.

"What is it with you and always wanting to climb?"

"What is it with you and always wanting to complain?" Julia's retort is quick, but her voice is gentle and I can see her cheek turn up as she smiles. "A little urban rock climbing is far more entertaining than using the elevator. Though I do have a sweet spot for the doorman downstairs."

"Oh? I've got competition already?" I can't help asking with a grin.

"Mm, yes, Henry. He's sixty-three years old and a handsome old coot. Keeps trying to set me up with his bachelor son though I think he's given up on that particular project."

"And why is that?"

"I get the feeling he suspects I prefer girls."

In a flash, the scraps of lace are gone and Julia is bare, her pale body gleaming for a moment before slicing into the water. The quiet splash as she disappears under the surface finally snaps my daze, prompting me to undress. My hands are clumsy with want and I chuckle at the sound of one of my garments tearing. If I were sure Julia had clothes to loan, every garment on my body would be in shreds; I can't get in the water fast enough.

The water is deliciously warm and my body relaxes instantly after my dive. I spin slowly in a lazy, silent spiral while Julia flits around me. She swims with swift, sure movements, a naiad with long limbs and hair trailing behind in an inky nimbus. She dart close and presses a kiss against my mouth, her fingers dancing over my shoulders and chest before she shoots out of my grasp once more.

Her laughter floats over the water when I surface. I assume a mock-serious pout she knows well, tracing circles in the water with my hands as I tread water. "Sweetheart, a boy only has so much patience."

"Even an immortal boy with all the time in the world?"

"Immortal yes, but also impatient. I'd like to spend _some_ of that time with my hands on you. And in you, if you'll let me."

Julia swims closer, her smile wide. With her wet hair slicked back, her long eyes are enormous pools of shifting emotions, drawing me in. The moonlight bounces off the water, striking her skin and its then I see a strange gleam on her right shoulder. Reaching quickly, I pull her closer, the water sloshing gently around us. I move us both until the bottom of the pool is under my feet, my eyes seeking out the place on her flesh. A scar, the telltale mark of trauma repaired with venom.

"What happened?" I run my finger over the silvery seam in the skin before looking up at her.

Julia's face and eyes empty, becoming lifeless as they do when she is distancing herself from an overload of emotion.

"It was nothing," she says, "a misunderstanding between old friends."

Disgust washes through me as I realize her meaning, followed immediately by fury. "Cullen did this to you?"

Julia doesn't need to reply; the stony look on her face tells me everything.

"Tell me that you gave as good as you got," I mutter, my fingers moving over the damaged flesh.

"It wasn't like that," she says with a sigh, her reserve melting a bit. "It's not as if we fought-"

"Bullshit," I say with a sneer, cutting her off. "Scars like this require force. He tried to rip your arm off."

"Let me finish," she says, her hands coming to rest on my waist under the water, quieting my voice if not my anger. "Edward surprised me with a human and blood was spilled. It had been a long time since Edward had smelled human blood. He lost control and I tried to stop him... I made a mistake. He injured me before he realized what he was doing."

I watch her face for a moment, looking for any hesitation or sign that she is protecting him. But there is only truth in her face and, perhaps, grief. Leaning forward, I run my tongue slowly over the seam, both in apology for my behavior and sympathy for her pain. The depths to which this strange, lonely girl can touch me never fail to surprise me.

"It wasn't too bad," she murmurs, her hands drawing me closer against her.

"I'm glad," I tell her, my mouth opening against the skin. Her breath catches in her throat when I continue past the seam and up her neck, my hands dropping to cup her breasts

"It was just the one tear... the other shoulder never... oh." She catches my face in her hands, pulling it to hers and covering my mouth with her own. I haul her up against me, my hands cradling her ass while she wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my shoulders.

"There's a bed, in case you were wondering," she pulls back to murmur.

"You're a genius." I groan and shudder when her cool tongue traces the shell of my ear. In an instant, I've carried her out of the pool and inside, moving with little regard for the confined space.

We fall into the bed, dripping water on the sheets and laughing before Julia's hands make it hard to do anything but gasp. She pushes me back against the pillows, her lips and tongue trailing cool fire from my face and neck down the length of my body. The feeling of her nose ghosting over my sternum and belly make me shudder. Her hands move over my thighs, sliding under to rub circles in my hamstrings, and running back to my hips and between my legs. I can't help moaning loudly when her teeth graze the edge of my navel before moving lower and nuzzling against my groin.

"Shush," she admonishes, teasing. Her eyes are blazing when she looks up at me, one hand wrapped around my cock. "Henry makes rounds on all of the floors around this time; I don't want him hearing you. It would be a shame to spoil the girl-on-girl fantasy he's cooked up for me."

I start to retort but it comes out garbled nonsense when her mouth closes over me.

"Uh, Julia," I manage to get out, threading my fingers through her damp hair as my hips buck.

The vibration of her mouth when she hums in approval undoes me. I am a writhing, mumbling mess under her lips, swearing when her hands continue their delicious circuit of torture, teasing and petting. Feeling myself losing control, I push her away and chuckle breathlessly when she makes a sound of disapproval.

"I want to be inside you," I say, pulling her up against me and rolling us so I can settle between her legs. "It's been too long, Julia; I need it."

"I'm all yours," she murmurs before giving me a mind-scrambling kiss that keeps me busy for several long moments.

Breaking away, I nudge her thighs further open with my knee. I stop to press open-mouthed kisses against her neck and tickle her collarbone with my tongue until she is panting. She lets out a long, hungry moan when I turn my attention to her breasts, licking and sucking at her nipples. Our hands never stop moving, stroking skin and whispering through hair, each of us driving the other to distraction.

"Daniel," she groans against my temple, her hands buried in my hair as I lick the hollow in her throat. "Christ, don't tease."

Together, we guide our bodies, both of us heaving shaky breaths when I slide inside her. The way she feels around me is indescribable and maddens me with pleasure. I pull out just a bit and then push back, biting my lip when Julia arches against me.

"Oh," she sighs and the feel of her breasts pressing up into my chest is unspeakably erotic. "More, Daniel."

Though I am dangerously close to losing myself, I do as she asks and as I want, sinking deep inside her. Her hips find a rhythm we both understand, and pleasure shoots over every inch of my body. My strokes are long and quick, Julia's heels pressing into the backs of my calves. She pulls me closer, her long fingers pressing into the skin on my shoulders so she can run her tongue over my chest. My need swells, overwhelming me when she throws her head back with a soft cry.

"Fucking hell," I mutter. "Uh. Julia, I'm gonna-"

" _Yes_." She breathes and then jolts, her voice breaking, her body trembling under and around me.

Her face when she falls is fierce and beautiful, her eyes wide and mouth open, forcing my last hold on control to disappear. I press my face into the pillow by her ear to muffle my shout when I crash. Julia pulls me close, her own quick gasps whispering over my neck while she holds me, bringing me back down gently.

We are silent for a long time in the big bed, hands gently roaming, and lips pressing wherever they are wanted. Like the rest of the apartment, the bedroom is mostly floor to ceiling windows, showing off stunning views of the lakefront. We lie tangled together in a pool of moonlight that is the only break in the darkness concealing us from curious eyes in the neighboring buildings.

A mirror above the dressing table on the other side of the room catches my eye. Tucked into the right corner are three vintage postcards I know well. These postcards hung in a similar place in Julia's San Francisco apartment. They are among the few things she takes with her from city to city, pieces from the small treasury of mementos she has collected over the years. The cards depict the Public Gardens in Boston, The Cotton Club in Harlem, and the Olympic Mountains of Washington. They are three places among many where Julia has spent significant amounts of time with Edward Cullen.

My mind runs over the changes I have seen in Julia tonight: the new wardrobe, the rough language, and the repeated temerity. I know who is at fault. Bitterness and anger sweep through me, leaving a sour taste in my mouth. Underneath my anger, there is something else, an emotion I can't recall feeling ever before: jealousy.

I run a hand over Julia's stomach as I gather my thoughts.

"You seem different, Julia," I say evenly, smiling at her gasp when I dip my finger in her navel.

She rolls on to her front, scowling playfully when I don't withdraw my hand. "I haven't seen you in over six months. Maybe that's it," she says, laying her cheek on my chest.

"I don't think so." I run one hand through the silk of her hair with a frown, and rub my fingertips over the crown of her head.

"What do you mean, then?" Her eyes shine coldly in the moonlight, and her expression is guarded.

Slowly, I move my hand from her hair over her neck and finally to the damaged flesh on her shoulder. "It's no one thing. The clothes...being around all those humans without feeding first... coming near my kill when you know better than anyone how dangerous that can be. You wouldn't have done those things when I was with you last year. Shit, Julia, you weren't even hunting men the last time I saw you."

She shrugs, pursing her lips for a moment as she considers my words. "You forget I wasn't hunting at all; they approached me. And I've had plenty of practice being around humans when I'm thirsty."

"Come on, sweetheart," I say seriously. "I don't think you believe that any more than I do. There's something reckless about you tonight... something I've never seen before. It's because of what happened with Cullen isn't it? The fight you had with him."

"I don't think so." Julia's stubbornness shows itself in the way her jaw tightens. "I told you, it was a misunderstanding. Edward still feels remorse for what happened that night."

"I'll bet he does. Enough remorse to keep him with you I see."

Anger flashes in Julia's eyes. I can hear it in her voice. "You know that's not how things are with Edward and me. We're just friends."

"Stop. You need to be honest with me, Julia, and yourself. Cullen may not be your mate, and you may just be friends, but it's one-sided. You are friends because of _his_ choice. We both know what you would choose if you could."

"That's not exactly a secret, Daniel." Julia's voice is sharp when she sits up and she glowers back at me over her shoulder. "What are you getting at?"

"Stop defending him, Julia. Admit that he hurts you. Stop pretending that he isn't the reason you're still alone."

Her eyes go wide with surprise at my words. "I am alone because I want to be, Daniel; I've been alone for nearly all of my immortal life. What the hell is going on with you? Why do you hate him so much?"

"Everything about him offends me," I retort, angered by her injured expression; I'm not the one that is responsible for hurting her. "The way he and his family conduct themselves. Their drive to be _noble_. To give back to the humans. To atone for our existence, Julia, as if they have the right to speak for all of us."

"The Cullens make their decisions for themselves, and only themselves," she protests with a shake of her head. "The choices they make for themselves don't affect you in any way-"

"Their constant exposure to humans is dangerous," I interrupt, ignoring the fact that Julia's lifestyle brings her in contact with humans every day. She moves among them at least as frequently as the Cullens and certainly more than typical nomads.

"Their behavior is nothing out of the ordinary for many vampires, Daniel," Julia argues. The smile dawning on her face tells me she is working hard to be reasonable. It also makes me unaccountably angry.

"Cullen treats you like shit," I scoff, watching the humor drain out of her face at once. "I haven't known you for very long, Julia, and certainly for not as long as _Edward._ I do know, however, that you would never suffer a fool the way you do him. And for what?"

"I'm not sure what do you want me to tell you, Daniel," she says hotly, one hand rubbing hard at the back of her neck.

"I want you to tell me why you allow Edward Cullen to tear you down over and over again. He could have killed you for Christ's sake."

"He _doesn't_ tear me down, Daniel. Yes, we fought and I was injured, but I already explained to why what that happened and it's something I doubt will ever take place again."

I don't bother to hide my sneer and Julia sighs with exasperation, folding her arms over her middle as she turns to face me, tucking her legs under herself. "Edward and I have been friends for a long time, Daniel, and we've gone through a great deal together. We don't always see eye to eye and we have disagreements like any two people. But we support each other, even when our paths sometimes move in opposite directions."

"Does he know you love him?" My voice is quiet but challenging, and the fire in Julia's eyes tells me I have struck a nerve. "Have you told him that, Julia?"

Her lips press in an angry line before she answers. "What does that have to do with anything?"

It's my turn to be surprised. "Are you kidding me? It has to do with _everything_. I want to know how he can be aware of the way you feel but not reciprocate. I think you haven't told him; that would explain the way he spurns you, over and over again."

"Oh, for God's sake!" Julia exclaims, rolling her eyes. "Edward can hear my thoughts; _of course_ he knows how I feel!"

"Well that just makes everything even more fucked up," I practically shout, sitting up myself. "That means he doesn't feel the same way but you don't care. You've been _letting him_ reject you for, what, over half a century!"

With a loud groan, Julia buries her face in her hands, hiding from my gaze for a long moment. When she drops her hands again, her expression is pained but determined. "Daniel. Why are you here with me?"

Her question takes me completely off guard. I am aware that I am gaping at her but I find it impossible not to do so.

"What the fuck kind of question is that? I'm here because I want to be with you."

"Are you sure about that? Are you really here for me or is this about Edward?"

" _What_? Jesus Christ, how can you even ask me that?"

She shakes her head, narrowing her eyes at me. "Look, Daniel. I like you. I enjoy spending time with you and I think we have a good time together. But sometimes I get the feeling that you're more interested in my relationship with Edward than you are in me."

"So it's a relationship now?" The words come out of my mouth before I can stop myself. The anger blossoming in Julia's eyes makes me wish I'd kept quiet, but now that I've started, I can't keep quiet. "You've always told me that Cullen is just a friend."

"This is what I'm talking about, Daniel!" Julia is shouting now and, worse still, she gets out of bed, stalking to the window with her fists balled before turning back to face me. "Edward is just my friend. My closest friend and one person I know I can count on no matter what happens. Even when he is completely opposed to my decisions and opinions, Edward remains my friend. I'm not sure I can say the same for you."

"That's not true," I say at once, shaking my head with a grimace. "You can trust me, Julia. I care about you. I just can't stand the way he-"

"Stop," she cuts me off, her voice weary. "When I'm with you, Daniel, I don't want to talk about Edward. _Or_ his family and how much you despise them. You need to get it through that head of yours that they are a part of my life, and not a very big one, because I want them there. It doesn't matter how you feel about what they do or how they live or even how they treat me; that's my business."

I wince, feeling the sting in her words. "How can you say that to me? You expect me not to care about how you feel? About how you're treated?"

Her face grows sad as she looks at me, her body gleaming in the moonlight. "Daniel. Do you want to stay with me?"

"What, here?"

"Anywhere," she says quietly. "You know what I want and how I like to live. I'm not a nomad the way you are. Can you honestly say that you're ready to stop wandering?"

I don't reply for a long moment. I know what she is asking and that it is not what I want. "I'm sorry. I'm not ready to stop yet."

"I know that," she says gently, "I'm not asking you to stop."

"You could come with me," I reply, feeling another sting as her words register; she is not asking me to stay. "You'd like it, Julia, I know you would. I know you don't want to be in a coven, so we could keep it just to the two of us."

"I'm not ready for that," she replies, walking back toward the bed though she remains standing. "I need to feel centered, to have a place to at least call mine even if I can't call it home."

I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. I can't look into those big eyes any longer without touching her, so I lean forward and catch her hand in mine, giving it a tug. Her mouth curves in a small smile as she lets me arrange her on my lap. She leans to rest her forehead against my temple, letting me take her hands in mine.

"Like I said, it's okay. Let's keep things between us as they are." Her voice is soft but no longer sad, and her sweet breath fans over my cheek as she speaks. "If either of us ever wants something more, we'll just figure it out then."

"That doesn't mean I don't care about you," I tell her quietly.

"I care about you, too. But there are some places I won't allow you to go."

"Because of him? Or because of me?"

"Because I'm damaged," Julia whispers. "For better or worse, and all that. When it comes down to it, the only person I can really count on is myself. I need to protect myself. From both of you."

"I hate that you think of me as a threat," I murmur, surprised again by how much her words hurt and by how much she makes me feel.

"You should be flattered," she says dryly. "I have to really care about someone to want to shut them out."

I can't help laughing. "Goddamn it, woman, you're a beautiful mess."

"The sooner you get that through your head, the better," she replies and I feel her smile against my cheek. "You haven't seen anything yet."

The soft touch of her hands between my legs followed by her tongue against my ear makes me groan. And I decide that kissing Julia is more important than arguing right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of makes you want to go skinny dipping, eh?
> 
> Next up will be a couple of futuretakes - we'll see how Miss Julia fares after breaking it off with Edward... *le sigh*
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and reviewing if you leave one. 
> 
> Notes:
> 
> The club Julia and Daniel meet in is inspired by the now defunct Chicago nightclubs Musicbox and Club C.O.D., both of which hosted early house music DJs in the 1980's.
> 
> Chicago's Northwest Incinerator at 700 Kildare Street was in operation from 1971 to 1996.


	16. Chapter 15: Future shot – Lisbon, 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a glimpse into what our friend Julia gets up to in the near future ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.

_(Future shot)_

You can live in this illusion  
You can choose to believe  
You keep looking but you can't find the woods  
While you're hiding in the trees  
"Right Where It Belongs" - Nine Inch Nails

The music leads me to her. The long, sweet cello notes are the last thing I expect to hear echoing around this quiet Alfama block. It's early evening and the sky is turning purple after sunset. The few businesses on the street are closed for the day, and the summer tourists back in their hotels or the bars around Lisbon. There are several abandoned buildings on the block, standing silent and watchful as I pass. The music grows louder as I approach the last building at the end of the street and I catch the trail of a vampire's scent. It's deliciously clean and woody, so sweet it makes my stomach curl with an unfamiliar longing.

The building's doors and windows are boarded over, but I have no trouble finding a way in. Once inside, it's clear the music is coming from the upper floors. Something slows my steps as I explore the building, forcing me to draw out the moment of discovery. My eyes travel over graffiti covering the walls and stairwells, and the paint peeling from ceilings. I gaze up the dead spiral of the elevator shaft, watching dirty light filter through broken windows and the skylight above. It has been some time since I have felt this level of interest in the world around me. I don't know who or what is behind the music in this building. But for the first time in a long while, I feel anticipation for something more than blood.

The music is loud on the top floor and impossibly clear. I don't recognize the piece but remember enough from my own music studies to identify it as a sonata. Except for an old wooden chair, the space is empty but I find stairs to the roof along an interior wall in what might have been a kitchen. Burning with curiosity, I stand like stone and let the music wash over me before climbing the steps.

That it is a girl making the music doesn't surprise so much as her obvious youth. I have met few of my own kind and none as young as myself; the girl looks to be close to my own age. And she is beautiful.

She is engrossed in her playing, her eyes closed, and her white arms and fingers moving the bow gracefully over the strings of a beautiful cello. The sight of her strikes a chord in me, making my mouth curl up in a smile. At almost the same moment, the girl smiles, too, a gentle expression passing over her face before she opens her eyes and looks across the roof to me.

I can't say which of us is more surprised. Though she keeps playing, the smile slides off her face. Her eyes grow wide, brows climbing her forehead in wonder. I feel my mouth open slightly, an odd sensation of vertigo sweeping over me as I stare back into a pair of the strangest eyes I have ever seen. Long and framed with heavy lashes, they reflect the last traces of light in the sky and burn a rich gold.

The girl stops playing after another moment, standing slowly to lay the cello and bow against the chair. Her eyes never leave mine. Her posture is not so much defensive as it is cautious, and I sense she will not attack me. Still, an urge to run rushes through me and battles with my desire to stay and talk to this girl with the strange eyes. I want very much to hear her voice.

"I don't usually come up here," she says. The sound of her crystal voice cutting through the silence is shockingly lovely, making me jump. She smiles again, in apology this time, and gestures toward the sky with one hand. "I often play downstairs when the humans have gone home, but it was just too pretty an evening to miss."

I nod, feeling the stiffness in my face and body, but the girl nods encouragingly at me before stepping forward. She is petite and slim, that much I can tell, and dressed in dark clothes. I know her hair falls in a glossy black sheet to her chin and she has a long neck. I can't look away from her face, not really, taking in her fine-boned features and full lips with what I recognize as hunger. I was a human boy the last time I touched a girl and can hardly remember the last time I felt this kind yearning.

"What's your name?" The deep, rusty sound of my voice is ugly after hers, but the girl doesn't seem to mind. If anything, I see a flash of understanding in her eyes.

"I'm Julia," she says, taking another step toward me. That single movement sounds the alarm bells in my head, making me swallow hard against the instinct to fight or flee before she speaks again. "What's yours?"

I remember to clear my throat before speaking, almost laughing at the very human gesture. "Gabriele."

The girl, Julia, nods and chews her lip for a moment. She steps closer, carefully respectful, and seems to gauge my mood as she moves, stopping when we are standing only a few feet apart. The smile she gives me is completely open, lighting her face, and calms me completely.

"Stay and talk to me for a while, Gabriele," she says softly, her voice curling inside my head like silky vapor.

To my astonishment, it's easy to talk to her. We speak about the places we have been in the last year and where we want to go next. She describes her travels through the Balkans and southeast Europe while I tell her about my long wander through Italy and France before returning to Portugal, my birthplace. She tells me about her experiences playing music over the decades, her face creasing in a soft smile when I laugh to think of her playing bass guitar. I admit that I played guitar growing up and miss it now. Upon hearing I have never been to the Americas, Julia tells me she lived in the U.S. nearly her whole life, leaving only a decade before. There is a wistfulness in her voice when she describes the cities and wild places she loved there, but her eyes are clear.

As we talk, I realize that she seems to understand how much to ask without pushing. It's nearly dawn when she glances toward the sky. She packs her cello in a worn case that looks to have traveled many miles before turning to me.

"I have a flat in Marques de Pombal," she says, "It looks like it will be sunny today; why don't you come back with me until tomorrow evening?"

I blink at her for a moment, my thoughts scattered all over my head. At some point, I lost track of how long it has been since I had a place to stay. With nothing to tie me to my old life, I have been alone and out of touch with most of the world, even as I traveled. I have no phone or computer, and the only belongings I care about are in my pockets or the thin rucksack on my back.

It occurs to me that I have spoken more tonight than I have in over a year. It feels... good, so good, but it's also deeply unsettling, like being doused in cold water.

"Gabriele." Julia is standing on my right, nearly touching my arm, and her voice is the softest murmur. "You can leave any time you want; I'm not trying to talk you into anything you don't want to do."

"Okay fine," I rush out. My words catch us both by surprise and I can't help smiling when Julia laughs sweetly. "I mean, yes, I'll come back with you."

A spark of mischief lights her eyes, the right edge of her bottom lip slipping again between her teeth for a moment. Suddenly, I find myself wondering if her venom tastes as good as she smells. Before I can be surprised by my turn of thought, Julia has started toward the stairwell, glancing over her shoulder so that I follow.

"Normally I'd run home," she says cheerfully when we step outside onto the sidewalk. "But I'll save that for another time. And it's not far at any rate."

Julia's flat is large and covers the top floor of a five-story building nestled among neighborhood shops. I linger in the foyer while she moves quietly through the rooms with the cello case. My eyes widen in surprise when a sleek grey cat crosses my path. The animal turns a pair of bright green eyes on me before stalking through the doorway opposite me, meowing loudly.

"How are you, old bean," Julia croons in response to the cat, the sound of their tandem purring growing loud.

I am still caught between the desire to leave and wanting to hear Julia's voice again. After living with my emotions switched off for so long, this sudden onslaught of mood has thrown me off kilter. I stand near the door for several more minutes, trying to understand what I am feeling.

From my place, I glimpse paintings on the walls and other small touches that give the space an air of being a home. I am struck by the warm and distinctly human feeling of the place. It smells faintly of cinnamon mixed with the notes of Julia's scent and there is music playing somewhere. Julia lights lamps as she moves through the flat, filling the rooms with an amber glow.

"Gabriele, please make yourself at home while you are here," she calls softly, just as I make up my mind to leave.

I am aware once more of her patience as she waits for me out, and the way she seems instinctively to understand my need for space. Her quiet acceptance convinces me to leave my rucksack by the door and walk into the flat.

Enormous windows run along one wall, looking out on to the city skyline. There is a glossy piano, and a wall lined floor-to-ceiling with books. Julia's cello and three guitars rest in stands nearby. There are vases of fresh flowers on several surfaces and, most amusingly, an electric fire glowing red under the mantle.

Following my gaze, Julia chuckles from her seat on a long sofa, the cat stretched out beside her on the cushion.

"My housekeeper insists on turning the fire on," she says with a shrug, "Despite my having told her several times that it's unnecessary. Fortunately, she comes only once a week so all I have to do is check back on that day; otherwise, I'm sure the place would have gone up in flames by now. At least the cat enjoys it in my absence."

For the first time tonight, I notice Julia's expensive clothing. The way the garments fit her body makes me abruptly aware of my own careless appearance. Julia fits perfectly in this beautiful space while I feel my homelessness and displacement even more keenly.

"Won't you sit down?" She meets my eyes with a peculiar intensity that makes me forget my discomfort for a moment.

"All right," I agree, moving slowly to the opposite corner of the sofa, smiling tentatively when I sit.

Her next question surprises me, though I am quickly realizing that everything about this girl is unexpected. "How long have you been alone?"

"Three years or thereabouts. Does that sound like a long time? Perhaps it's a very short time." My floundering words make me groan and I give her a rueful look while I rub my thumb over my forehead.

"It's both, I think," she agrees kindly. "I've been on my own for some time; I haven't shared a home with someone for almost eight-five years now. That's not very long for our kind though it seems substantial enough. But when I look back, it seems like hardly any time at all." She sighs and her mouth hardens almost imperceptibly.

The words are out of my mouth before I realize I am going to speak and I cringe the moment I finish speaking. "Why are your eyes that funny color?"

To my delight, Julia leans her head back against the couch and laughs, her eyes scrunched up in amusement.

"You should have seen your face," she says with a sigh. "The embodiment of an adorably horrified boy. How old are you, anyway?"

"Er, no," I retort with a grin. "Answer my question first, please."

I'm treated to a good-natured eye roll. "Very well. I hunt animals, in the main, rather than humans. The blood makes my eyes change if I keep at it long enough."

"But whatever for?" I ask with a grimace.

"Lots of reasons," she replies with a shrug, curling the sleepy cat's tail around one pale finger. "The yellow color makes it easier to be around the humans; fewer questions. And the low number of missing persons around any place I live makes it possible to remain under the radar; I can live in one place for a decade or more without attracting much attention so long as I'm careful."

She purses her lips and shrugs, looking both frustrated and amused. "It's also an exercise in obstinacy; just how long can I keep from eating my neighbors?"

"How do they taste?"

"Who, my neighbors?"

"No, the animals."

"Totally revolting."

And now I'm the one laughing, long peals rolling out of me that disturb the cat's sleep. His disgusted expression only increases my mirth and soon I'm breathless. Julia simply watches my amusement, chuckling in answer.

"You'll forgive me for guessing that it's been a while since you had a good laugh," she says gently when I have quieted.

I nod, taking in her serious expression before bringing my hands to my face, my fingers massaging the skin over and under my eyes. "Yes. It's been a while since anything, really. Anything besides feeding and moving from place to place. It's... I don't really know how to explain it."

"I may have some idea," Julia replies quietly. "I've gone off the grid, too, from time to time. I've always found coming back from it a bit strange and overwhelming."

I glance at her, bringing my hands back down and away from my face. "Does it bother you that I hunt humans?"

"No," she replies without hesitation. "I still sometimes indulge in the pleasure when the mood strikes me or I have a weak moment. The... animal _diet_ is and always has been a work in progress for me."

"When was the last time you tasted human blood?"

She gives a slight grimace as she answers, clearly bothered in some way by her own words. "Just before I left the States. I indulged quite a bit in a short period actually; there was talk in the media of a serial killer, though I was very careful to hide my kills. Fortunately, that overindulgent time seems to have helped tide me over even until now."

We're silent for a while, the music and sounds of the humans on the streets below echoing quietly in the room. Strangely, it's not uncomfortable sitting beside her, even when we are discussing uncomfortable topics. Instead, I have enjoyed our conversation far more than I would have ever imagined. Something about Julia draws me in. It's the cool and respectful interest she has shown me and the small bits of herself she shares.

"Would you think me rude if I offered you the use of my shower?"

My eyes pop open in surprise at her words. I turn to find her clapping one hand over her eyes comically, clearly trying to stifle her laughter. "Er, not really, I suppose?"

"I'm sorry, that sounded so much better in my head." She peeks at me from under her fingers with a grin. "You look uncomfortable and I thought maybe you'd be less so if you had a chance to clean up and relax. Not that you're dirty of course."

"I'm not uncomfortable, Julia," I tell her, surprised by her observation. Glancing down at my \ shabby clothes, I nod. "My clothes _are_ a bit worn out... I'm not exactly pulled together right now, it's true. It's just... it's been a long time since I was in someone's home. I'm not used to the feeling."

"All right," she says agreeably before shooing the cat from her lap. Her face becomes serious once more. "To be fair, you should know that I can read your intentions. I understand what you plan to do when the intention forms in your mind."

Ah, well then. This goes a good ways toward explaining the uncanny way she has been able to gauge my impulses. "So when I make up my mind to leave because I feel out-of-place in your posh apartment-"

"I can see your intent," she answers for me, looking neither apologetic nor sheepish. "It's not something I try to do; it's something over which I have no control."

"The one who made me," I say, understanding at once, "he could change someone's mood simply by laying a finger on their skin. I always thought he was unique in that way. But the thing you can do... it's something similar, isn't it?"

She nods, seeming relieved. "Some of our kind have gifts like mine and your maker's. Mine comes in handy, as you might imagine, though I'm sure my friends have wished for more privacy over the years."

Standing, she looks down at me and gestures over her shoulder with one hand. "Come and I'll show you where the bath is."

Julia is right it turns out; a shower goes a long way toward making me feel more comfortable. I had forgotten how delicious hot water feels. I had forgotten simple pleasures like the smell of peppermint soap between my fingers. But any sense of relaxation disappears when I find the change of clothes on the counter, tags still attached to the impossibly soft jeans and shirt. Its clear Julia dashed out to buy them but I have only known her for a few hours and feel uncomfortable accepting the gift.

Catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, I see the lean planes of my face for the first time in years. There are my mother's large almond-shaped eyes and dark blonde hair, and my father's nose and strong jaw. There is an unfamiliar expression behind the long eyelashes my sisters used to envy. I wonder if that look is what surprised Julia when she first saw me on the rooftop. Perhaps it is the reason she asked me to come to her flat tonight. An irrational need to understand why she wants me here makes me reach for the pile of new clothes.

I find her at the piano, alternately playing and making notations in the margins of a page of sheet music. Surprise filters over her face again when she turns toward me, though it is replaced quickly by a satisfied smile. I hesitate, thinking I might sit next to her on the bench, but she is already getting to her feet to move toward the big windows.

"Thanks for the clothes," I begin, unsurprised when she waves me off.

"It was no trouble," she says, leaning easily against the glass. "You never answered my question, you know. Earlier, when I asked your age."

"Right." I nod, keeping a bit of distance between us when I join her at the window. "I was twenty-one when this happened."

"That sounds about right," she says, "Though I might have guessed even a little younger. When I first saw you..." Julia breaks off and huffs a strained sort of laugh, her face rueful.

Watching her grasping for words, my fingers tingle with the urge to soothe her... perhaps take her hand, instead I slide my hands in my pockets, unsure what to do.

"Sorry, this is really a bit strange for me," she apologizes, licking her lips. She pushes her fingers through her hair, seeming to gather her thoughts before speaking again. "The first time I saw you, you reminded me very strongly of someone I knew once. A friend I had back... home, I suppose."

"Is that a bad thing?" I feel my mouth pull down in a frown.

"No," she says at once, "It's not that you look like him... but there's something familiar I can't quite put my finger on. It startled me on the roof and then just now when you came out of the shower."

Nodding, I turn to watch the lights of the city. The last thing I want is to make her uncomfortable after all the kindness she has shown me. But the idea that our conversation is about to end disappoints me deeply, bothering me far more than I would have expected. I wonder if we can meet again at some point in the future.

"I'll go, Julia."

She is at my side in an instant, her knuckles whispering across the back of my hand but never quite touching me.

"Stay." Julia's big eyes are solemn. "I like talking to you."

Those words make it just that easy to slip back in to the world. We spend the day talking while I slowly acclimate myself to the things I have ignored for the past three years. I am painfully unaware of so many things, but Julia is patient and encouraging as she answers my questions and finds me material to read and watch on her tablet.

She plays her cello again when I ask before we go out together in the evening, rambling amongst the humans with an ease that surprises me. With a start, I notice the sky is turning grey with the coming dawn and Julia is urging me back toward the flat. Rather than going inside, she leads me through an alley to a private parking area housing cars and a beautiful Triumph motorbike. Before I can ask what she has in mind, a helmet is sailing through the air toward me. Julia is on the bike by the time I pull the helmet on and I slide behind her just as she hits the gas, taking us out on to the street.

Traffic is light at this early hour and we clear the Lisbon city limits quickly, traveling west toward Sintra. Julia drives the engine relentlessly once we are on the A5, handling the big bike with easy grace. My head is buzzing with sensations that overwhelm me. Julia's slim waist beneath my hands, the bike's vibrations between my legs, the salty air from the beaches nearby, her laughter over the wind and roar of the engine; there is almost too much for me to grasp. I want to pull her against me and feel her against my body, to bury my face against her neck and let that sweet, woody smell soak over me.

We leave the bike outside of a golf resort near Linho and continue on foot, using the service roads and woods to move west into the large national park. When the trees conceal us, Julia shoots a saucy look my way, grinning just before sprinting through the woods. I follow an instant later, chuckling when I realize she is faster than I am and moves in and around the trees like a phantom. She lets me to catch up and we climb the hills together, finding a shaded spot on a ridge to watch the sunrise and talk through the daylight hours.

The days become weeks and the weeks become months, slipping by with enormous ease. We explore the city, using Julia's camera to photograph the abandoned buildings, many of which have been turned into massive canvases by local artists. We pass nights in bars and nightclubs listening to music and dancing with or for each other. There are beaches for running in the moonlight and nature reserves in which we can spend daytime hours under green filtered light.

One evening I find a gorgeous classical guitar next to the cello with a simple, cheeky note that reads, " _Play me._ " I set out to begin the process of rediscovering the music I left behind as a teenager. Instead, I learn that, like Julia, immortality comes with an unexpected gift; mine is music. The notes pour out of me the moment my fingers touch the strings, almost frighteningly perfect.

"Didn't you say you'd stopped playing?" Julia's voice is hushed and her eyes wide as she kneels by my side.

"I did. It's been years since I touched a guitar," I murmur, sure my face mirrors her shock.

"Try mine," she says suddenly, pulling the guitar from me and filling my hands with her cello.

I shake my head, already protesting as she places the bow in my hand, but the music that fills the air silences me at once. I play almost without thought, pulling beautiful notes out of the instrument I have never touched before that moment. Julia's excited laughter snaps me out of my daze. Before I can blink she is urging me to the piano where again it's effortless, music flowing like breath in my lungs or blood over my tongue.

"How wonderful," she murmurs at last.

My fingers finally falter when I look at her, and my chest grows tight when I see the delight and pride blazing in her face. Her smile is blinding.

More than anything else, we talk, every day and about everything. I tell Julia about the human family I had in Alentejo and the farmhouse where I lived with my parents and sisters. We were cork and olive farmers with little money but a wealth of affection for one another. Julia listens when I tell her about the house fire that claimed them all while I slept over at my friend's house. I speak of the kind relatives in Porto, bewildered by a twelve-year-old's guilt and grief, who worked together to help me pull myself out of my depression. With their support, I finished school and had gone on to co-own a local bar with a classmate.

"Were you happy?" Julia asks after I have told her about the bar. Her keen eyes are troubled as she watches me.

"I didn't put much stock in happiness," I admit. "After my family died, I decided that being satisfied was easier than being happy. Satisfaction is more attainable."

I tell her of the one who made me, an ancient creature called Santino who was bent on building a coven in Porto. I was attacked walking home one night after my shift at the bar, and stuffed into the boot of a car. I burned for days after he bit me, locked in the cellar of an old farmhouse outside the city limits.

Santino instructed me in the ways of our kind and taught me how to survive without detection. But the loss of my human life embittered me and I fought with him from the moment I opened my vampire's eyes. The frenzied newborn year was hardly finished before our relationship ruptured permanently over my refusal to infect others at his command.

Quickly, I learn that for all her skills as a listener, Julia is less forthcoming with details of her life. I am patient, seeking ways to pierce her reserve with gentleness and respect. I learn of her human life in Missouri with a sister and heartbroken father who mourned the wife that left him for another man. She tells me of the years she spent with her maker, Miranda, a cool and deadly hunter who vanished without a trace. She tells me about friends she made through the years, discussing the humans openly and with fondness. Of our fellow vampires, she is more tight-lipped, mentioning names and cities with spare details. Carlisle, Daniel, Edward, Alice, Demetri; I don't recognize the names, but can't help wondering who they are and what they meant to her.

Because Julia is so quiet about herself, I have a craving to know more. The longer I stay with her, the more I find her in my thoughts. I watch her when her attention is diverted, my eyes moving over the arch of her brow or the curve of her lip just before she smiles. I have memorized the set of her shoulders and graceful lines of her hands, as well as the jagged scars on her wrists. Without looking, I can picture the flash of her eyes and the light moving over her hair when she turns her head.

I try to understand the changing feelings I have for this girl who is small but powerful and at the center of enormous change in my life. When we separate to hunt, a tension spreads through my chest, growing slowly tighter with each hour until I see her again. Her emotions affect mine in ways I can't account for, prompting distress when she is troubled and happiness when she is pleased. The interest I felt in those first days when Julia pulled me back into the world changes as the weeks pass. Fascination has become affection. Affection has become endearment. And endearment has become... love.

We are perched on the north tower of the 25 de Abril bridge one night in the midst of a light snowfall, planning a visit to Madeira. Without thinking, I reach for her hand, surprising us both. Julia's voice halts in the middle of speaking; her eyes are wide and fixed on our joined hands. The few seconds of silence that pass are unbearably heavy, filled with wordless panic around my certainty I have done something very wrong.

"What color were your eyes, Gabriele?" Her own eyes are glowing when they meet mine, her lips curving up slowly. "Before your change?"

"Blue," I reply, my voice gone raspy at the sight of that beautiful smile. "What about yours?"

"They were grey," she murmurs, squeezing my fingers lightly.

Those first innocent touches open a floodgate. From that moment, I can't stop myself from touching her, though they remain chaste and gentle moments of contact. Holding her hand in as we sit talking, brushing her knuckles while we play piano, bumping her shoulder as we walk, ghosting my fingers along the small of her back when she steps in front of me. Each touch makes me want more.

Julia does not shy from my touches but neither does she initiate them. She is the same, kind and open, perhaps even more gently encouraging. Sometimes I glimpse a gleam in her eye that I can't quite decipher or a certain tenderness in her voice that is unfamiliar. Can I hope that she feels something more than friendship? Can I be enough for her, bringing nothing with me but my still heart?

I find the sheet music about a year after meeting her, sitting in a neat pile inside the ancient trunk that always stands open. The compositions are complex and beautiful, written on paper yellowing with age. Most of the music is written in an elegant script I don't recognize, attributed to _E.A.M.C_. Notes in Julia's compact hand are also sprinkled throughout, sometimes covering whole passages. Intrigued, I sit at the piano sifting through the pages, choosing one at random titled _Brooklyn - June._ The piece is a delicate ballad and the lovely notes flow easily under my fingers.

A tiny crack reaches my ear. When I look up, Julia is standing in the doorway with one hand braced on the doorframe. My smile dies the moment I take in her stricken expression, my fingers ceasing to move over the keys. The cracking noise grows louder as the music fades, and I realize that it is the sound of the wood frame buckling under Julia grip. Before I can say a word, she blurs and is gone.

I am midway down the flights of stairs when I hear the Triumph's engine. She is already a block away by the time I make it outside, the bike's engine loud as she maneuvers through the light evening traffic on the street. It is pointless to chase her, and I pull out my phone and fire off text after text, unable to hide my distress.

_**Come back, let me apologize** _

_**Please tell me what to do** _

_**Don't do this, Julia - I'm sorry** _

The silence of the flat is deafening when I return. The emotions come when I sit on the sofa, anger, guilt, and sorrow crashing into me like a steamroller. A thousand thoughts fly through my brain, urging me to act. My hands ache to smash the piano, to shred the sheet music, to pack my rucksack and walk out the door. I grit my teeth in my effort to control myself while the cat watches me from his space on the hearth and the hours crawl by.

It is dawn when I hear her quiet tread on the stairs, and the sound of the key card clicking in the lock. I feel her watching me from the door, but can't bring myself to meet her gaze. The sense of relief I feel is too strong, battling with my anger that she ran and my shame for hurting her. I press my hands together to control their trembling and wait for whatever words she has for me.

"I'm sorry," Julia says quietly.

The soft apology in her voice makes my snap up in shock. "What are you -"

"I shouldn't have run off like that," she continues, cutting me off gently. "I... I have a bad habit of running away from my emotions. I should have stayed last night."

"I thought you'd gone," I admit in a rush, shoving my hands into my hair. "Christ, Julia."

"I wouldn't do that, Gabriele," she says at once, stepping forward to stand in front of me. Her expression is soft with remorse and a plea for understanding. "I've run away enough times in this life to know it doesn't fix anything. No matter how many other things I muck up, I can say that with certainty."

"Why did you... what happened? I don't understand what I did." My chest is tight at the memory of Julia's face last when she saw me at the piano. The shock and sorrow in her features... and what I know was disappointment.

She sighs, dropping down beside me and running her fingers through her hair. "You didn't do anything, Gab. It was me. I haven't been honest with you. I've been holding things back because I find it easier to just not think about them."

"You don't have to tell me anything if it means hurting yourself," I protest with a shrug.

She shakes her head at once, her expression determined. "I want to tell you. I owe it to you to be up front. I owe it to _myself_."

Unsure how to answer, I nod and hope that my expression is encouraging, as I mean it to be.

"When we met, you reminded me of someone. A boy I once knew," she says quietly, her eyes on mine.

"I remember. You said he was your friend."

"That's right. His name is Edward Cullen," she says with a small smile, "And you did remind me of him, when I first met you. Now, I can't imagine two men that are more different.

"When I met Edward, I was still recovering after losing Miranda. Edward helped me begin to climb out of the hole I had fallen into and we became friends. Over the years, we learned a great deal together... taught each other, as well.

"The music you were playing last night. Edward wrote it," she says, sighing sadly, "We wrote it together, actually. And when I heard it..."

"You thought it was him playing," I murmur, wincing. Julia's pain pierces me, sharper almost than my own. I understand the disappointment I saw in her face last night now; she had hoped to see someone else in my place at the piano.

"No, Gab. I didn't know _what_ to think," she says swiftly. "Edward and I cut ties before I left the States. I haven't seen him since. I _knew_ it wouldn't be him. But at the same time, I couldn't imagine who else would be playing that music. I never occurred to me that you would find it."

"Jesus, I'm sorry." The urge to take her hand is so strong; I close my eyes, willing myself to remain still.

"Don't. You couldn't have known," she replies, her voice earnest and calming. "I was just so surprised. And it's my fault. If I had told you about my friendship with Edward, you would have known where that music came from and we could have talked about it. It's not wrong to play those pieces. They are beautiful and they _should_ be played, not hidden away like some kind of shameful secret. I don't want to hide anymore, Gabriele."

Her face is solemn when I open my eyes, and I see the truth in her eyes. But it is several minutes before I bring myself to ask the question that has burned me since she explained her friendship with Edward Cullen. "Did you love him?"

"Yes," she replies at once, her voice very quiet. "If Edward had felt the same way... my life would be very different now. But he didn't love me as I loved him. And I moved on. We both did."

"Do you still love him, Julia?"

"Yes. But I've learned to love myself more." Julia reaches over to take my hand, resting it gently between hers in her lap. "I understand how to be content now. Perhaps even how to be happy."

She braids her fingers between mine, her voice soft and sweet as she speaks. She tells me every story she has been holding back, spanning her immortal life. She speaks of failed friendships and lost families, betrayal and loss, loyalty and love. She tells me about soaring and falling, about being broken and rebuilding.

I listen, relishing the feel of Julia's soft fingers stroking mine, and the way her eyes shine. I watch the emotions pass over her face and listen to her voice rise and fall as the words spill out of her. A whispering refrain echoes in my head, filled with both triumph and relief: _finally, finally, finally_. At last, she is ready to show me her hidden pain and joy.

I don't know how this conversation will end. Whether we move forward together or turn away, I can't begin to guess. But I am sure that, finally, I will know this woman I love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo... you like?
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and reviewing if you leave one. 
> 
> Notes:Gabriele (in this story) is pronounced Gah-bree-elee. Like 'Gabriel' in a yummy Latin accent with an extra 'ee' sound at the end.
> 
> A 2008 study showed that a large number of historic buildings in Lisbon had been abandoned and were in disrepair. I'm extrapolating this situation several years into 2015.


	17. Chapter 16: Future shot - Barcelona, 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another glimpse into what our friend Julia gets up to in the near future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.

_(Future shot)_

This is not the sound of a new man or crispy realization  
It's the sound of the unlocking and the lift away  
Your love will be  
Safe with me  
"re: Stacks" - Bon Iver

La Rambla is one of my favorite places in Barcelona. I spend hours on the long avenue during both daylight and nighttime hours, watching the shifting patterns of humans as they go about their daily lives. I like to walk through the markets and spend time in the bars, drinking in the buzz of activity. There are countless moments to capture in photographs and a million half-heard conversations floating through the air.

This city appeals to the artist in Gabriele, feeding his love of art and music in ways that slowly open his shyness. We roam through the churches and museums dotting the city, learning how to interpret the tightly bound mixture of architecture and art. We explore the cavernous Sagrada Familia together after dark, Gabriele's gleeful laughter echoing softly through the shadows four hundred feet above the ground. I watch his rapture unfold from a box seat in Liceu, the music of Puccini or Wagner blossoming around us, and his lips hungry on mine.

Gabriele finds ample prey within the city and the surrounding provinces while I hunt in the forests and parks to the north, sometimes crossing the border into France. He accompanies me on these trips, his hands strong around my waist as the Triumph flies over the motorways. I have not been able to persuade him to hunt animals yet, though he is curious and enjoys watching me stalk deer and chamois. We talk of an extended trip into the wilderness, perhaps in Poland or Slovenia, and he plans to be used to hunting animals by then.

We play and write music together in the music room of our rented townhouse. Gabriele uses his gift to accelerate my learning of new instruments, though I am still drawn to the piano and my cello. We make a project of organizing the compositions Edward and I wrote so many years ago. We catalogue and store the fragile paper in archival boxes tucked in the bottom of my trunk. After much coaxing, Gabriele persuades me to play a few of his favorite pieces for both piano and cello while he records me, his eyes shining.

"You should send copies to the Cullens," Gabriele says softly as we listen to a track completed earlier in the day. We are standing by the window in the music room watching a summer storm roll over the city.

"Of the sheet music, you mean?" I smile when the grey cat springs from the floor to perch between us on the windowsill. His purr fills the air when I scratch his long ears.

"Yes, and of the recordings we have made," Gabriele replies, running one hand gently along the nape of my neck. "I would imagine he'd like to hear your playing after all this time. Particularly those pieces you worked on together."

I focus my attention on the raindrops falling on the glass and the dark clouds crawling across the sky. Memories fill my head of how much Edward enjoyed playing the pieces he wrote during those years. His perfect memory does not need the sheet music to play the pieces. But I know seeing these compositions will affect him immensely. Like me, he collected mementos sparingly over the decades, saving only the things that carried some kind of emotional significance and feeling of personal history. Edward's years in New York and Boston were the result of a tremendous shift in his philosophies, as well as a time of discovery and change, much of which he grew to regard with shame. The stack of sheet music will remind him that some good came of the time he spent away from Carlisle and Esme.

"Perhaps you're right. I'll think about it," I murmur.

Having been on his own for much of his immortal life, Gabriele is curious about other vampires and only vaguely aware of the deeply buried culture of our kind. We talk of those we have met in our travels and the laws that govern the vampires' world. I tell him what I know of the rebellious factions in the southern U.S. and Mexico, as well as the history of the Volturi and their enemies. Covens are of special interest to him, particularly large groupings like the Cullens their extended family that is spread across the world.

"And you've never come across any of the Cullens during all these years?" We are walking home after the opera and discussing the few covens I have met.

"Not quite. I crossed Carlisle's scent trail, years ago, when I was in London," I reply, linking my hand easily in his. "There was another scent I recognized but couldn't identify, probably his wife's."

"You didn't seek them out?"

"No. The trail was fairly fresh, but I didn't have much interest in seeing him."

"You would have been uncomfortable?"

"It wasn't too long after I had cut ties with Edward and the Cullens," I acknowledge with a nod. "I wasn't sure how many in the family were present... if Edward and his family were there. It seemed easier to go along my way."

"What if you were to see them now?" He asks, eyeing me intently. "How would it make you feel?"

"I'm honestly not sure," I reply with a shrug.

Gabriele's face draws down in a gentle frown, his eyes becoming troubled. "Is that why you don't go back to the States? To avoid Edward?"

I slow then, drawing him to a stop and pulling him around to face me. "Gab, what's going on?"

"Will you answer the question, Julia?" His voice is earnest, almost concerned, and his hands rub soothing circles over my shoulders. "Please. It sounds to me as if you are hiding. I'd like to know if that's true."

"Avoiding Edward was the reason I came to this side of the world," I reply. "It was a way of distancing myself from him and his family, to begin understanding how to live truly for myself. Call it hiding, if you prefer. But it wasn't long before I discovered that I liked it here. That is the reason I stayed.

"There are so many places I have yet to see, dear heart," I say, reaching to brush the backs of my hands over his cheeks. "Why shouldn't I roam wherever my feet want to take me?"

"Of course you should," he says with a grin, leaning to press a kiss against the corner of my mouth before drawing me close against him as we walk. But there is a tension in his eyes that his smile can't hide.

Gabriele is a gentle soul, modest and unaware of the power of his beauty. He has a seemingly limitless capacity to feel and love, which allows him to accept my many failings with patience and grace.

I sense a change in Gabriele after our conversation on La Rambla, and an undercurrent of sadness that I cannot pinpoint. He grows more reserved as the weeks pass, pulling away by slow degrees, and acting both needy and aloof in turns. For the first time since we met, he excuses himself from my company when he is not hunting. He returns from these periods of solitude craving my touch, overwhelming me with fevered kisses and caresses.

Gabriele has been absent for the better part of several days when I find myself sitting in a Stiges cove late one night. While I see him briefly each day and we exchange texts at all hours, he has found reasons to stay away far more than ever before. I watch his intentions with some reluctance, feeling like a spy and preparing myself for indications that he is planning to leave. Though I see none, I find this continued and slow separation too painful to dismiss.

I let myself into the house, relieved to find his fresh scent trail leading upstairs to the roof. It is quiet on the deck, and the air is damp with a mist that softens the grey light. Gabriele is sitting by the pool, his eyes trained on the twilit sky. He appears very human in the chair, his chin resting in his hands and elbows propped on the table. He has been hunting and his scent mixed with smell of prey is luscious: sweet vetiver, birch, and blood.

He turns his head when he hears my footfalls, his eyes anxiously searching me out in the mist. He holds out one hand, palm upturned and open, welcoming my touch. I crouch between his knees, angling my head back to look into his face, and his fingers curling around mine to pull me closer. There is a deep melancholy darkening his crimson eyes even as the corners of his mouth lift softly in greeting.

"Gab, what is it?" I ask, letting go his hand to run my fingers through his windblown hair.

His brows draw together at my words. "What makes you think anything is wrong?"

"You're a musician not an actor, you silly creature," I tease affectionately. "I can tell when you're bothered by something. I've hardly seen at all this week and when I do, you're not yourself."

Gabriele doesn't chuckle as I had hoped but instead looks wholly miserable, as if my words granted him permission to falter. He opens his mouth to speak, but stalls and looks down at our joined hands, his thumbs running lightly over my knuckles.

His voice is hushed when he speaks, the words filling the space between us. "Is it always going to be like this, Julia? Me loving you while you love him?"

"Oh, Gab." I cradle his face in my palms, feeling the weight of his insecurity. I wait until he reluctantly lifts his eyes to meet mine before speaking again. "It's not like that. _You_ are in my thoughts. Don't doubt that."

A worried line appears across his forehead and I know he is silently fretting, unsure how to phrase the feelings that plague him.

"Is that what's been going on with you these past weeks?" I trace the lines of his lips softly with my thumbs. "Where is this coming from?"

"I don't know," he replies unhappily. "I just wish I could be sure about you, Julia."

A sigh escapes me as I move to slide into Gabriele's lap, and I thread my arms around his shoulders when he leans back to make room. No matter how much time we spend together, he seems unable to conquer feelings of self-doubt, about himself, about my desire to remain with him, and especially about Edward's place in my stone heart.

"Sure of what, dear heart? I'm not going anywhere without you."

Gabriele does not answer right away, instead pressing his face against my neck. The rich smell of blood is strong on his skin, prodding my thirst before I push it down.

"I know," he says though doubt throbs quietly in his voice. His hands are strong around my waist and he sighs softly when my fingers creep back into his hair.

"You don't believe me?" I trace the edge of his ear with my nose, hearing his breath hitch when I press a soft kiss against the apple of his cheek.

"Sometimes, I don't know what to believe," he admits, his lips moving in a low whisper against my throat.

He winds his arms around me, pulling me closer. Desire pulses like cold fire in my belly. I want to wrap myself around him and help him get lost with me in pleasure. Instead, I let out a long, slow breath, pressing my lips to his ear. He grows still against me, listening to my murmured words.

"I'm a lot of things, Gab, but I'm not a liar. I'll always tell you the truth. I'm not going anywhere."

Gabriele pulls back, his hands almost rough as they move over my neck and jaw to tilt my head back, pinning me with his gaze. A deep sadness simmers in his eyes as he watches me and whispers over my skin beneath his lips.

"I need you," he murmurs between kisses, moaning softly when my tongue darts out to touch his upper lip.

"I'm here," I tell him. My fingers trace his hairline and our breaths quicken and mix.

Gabriele releases my head, his hands sliding over my throat and under my shirt collar to stroke my collarbones before continuing lower.

"Do you need me?" he murmurs, dipping to press his lips on the hollow of my throat.

He has unbuttoned my shirt before I reluctantly stop him, smiling at the grunt of impatience he makes when I stand. Taking his hand, I lead him downstairs to the bedroom, braiding our fingers together. He takes his time undressing me, torturing me with light touches. His fingers trail over the scar on my shoulder and then circle the marks on my wrists, leaving me aching. I sigh when he steps back to disrobe, his eyes burning.

Gabriele lays his hands over my breasts, drawing a shaky groan from me when he bends to take one in his mouth. His arms move around my waist, lifting me up and backward onto the bed before he sprawls next to me, one knee between my legs. His hands run over my back and hips, and he trails kisses over my neck and jaw while my fingers sink into his hair, pulling him against me desperately.

I feel his mouth draw up in a smile against my skin when I grind against his thigh with a little gasp.

"Feels good, doce," he murmurs.

My desire blooms, expanding through me when he moves to settle between my legs. Our hands never stop moving, whispering and pressing over skin, always drawing one another closer. Gabriele is hard against my belly, his breath stuttering when I reach down to take him in my hand.

A lump fills my throat without warning and I have to bite my lips against the deluge of feelings crashing over me. My skin feels close to bursting with need.

"God help me, I missed you," I can't help murmuring. Any hope I had that my voice was low enough for Gabriele to miss hearing are dashed when I feel him still against me.

He pulls back to look down at me, with dark eyes. His low voice is almost angry. "Do you mean that?"

"Yes," I whisper, screwing my eyes shut.

His forehead comes to rest on mine and he shifts over me, groaning deeply when I guide him inside. Lying back, I pull him tightly against me and listen to the rumbling sounds escaping him as he sinks deep inside me. I meet his thrusts, my hips bucking up to meet his.

"You're beautiful," Gabriele says, his voice raspy.

I open my eyes when his right hand comes to rest on my jaw, cupping my face almost delicately. He is bracing himself above me with his right arm, his left hand continuing to move over my body, maddening me with his touch.

"So are you," I reply, running my trembling hands over his chest and drawing a gasp when I pluck his nipple, a moan when I squeeze his backside.

He twists his hips as he pumps, wiping my mind clean of rational thought, and making me moan. Two fingers press against my lips to quiet me, Gabriele's eyes narrowing when I take those fingers in my mouth. He bites back a groan when I suck hard and lift my legs to wrap around his waist, pushing him with my heels.

Pleasure explodes inside me without warning, speeding outward and consuming me in its wake as he pulls his fingers from my mouth.

"Oh, _God_ ," I cry, grunting helplessly as my body stiffens and pulses under and around him.

Gabriele's eyes are rapt as he watches my shudders, steadying me even as his thrusts become erratic, and he pants my name loudly in the quiet room. His moan is deep when he follows a moment later, his face crumpling as he falls against me and whispering garbled words against my neck.

He lets me hold him for a long time, pressing tender kisses over my breasts while our limbs tangle around each other in the sheets. Those lips grow hungry when I pull his mouth to mine, and he chuckles throatily when I reach again to stroke between his legs. His laughter stops when his fingers slip inside me and I groan his name.

The sun is low in the sky when I close my eyes, seeking my only escape from watching Gabriele's intentions to leave form again and again. "When are you going?"

The way his hands freeze mid-circuit over my skin tells me I have surprised him. "I'm... not sure."

"I think it will be tonight." I am surprised at the lightness in my voice, its steadiness. "Will you text me to let me know where you are?"

He rises up on his elbow to look at me then, waiting patiently until I open my eyes before he continues. "Of course. I'll be gone for only a few days. I need some time to clear my head."

"Take the bike, if you'd like," I say, running my hand over his messy hair, admiring the gold between my fingers.

He smiles uncertainly, but his tone is teasing. "You don't have to bribe me to come back, doce. I just feel the need to get my thoughts straight."

"I'm not bribing you," I reply gently. "I can see that you're not planning to take off forever. At least not right now."

Gabriele shifts in the bed immediately, pulling me up with him, and pressing our joined hands against his chest.

"I'm coming back, Julia," he says fervently. His eyes are hard and determined, and his hands are urgent as they offer comfort I do not feel.

"All right," I tell him softly, more to quiet his distress than anything else.

The house is quiet after Gabriele leaves, driving the car we lease into the predawn. Though he has no set itinerary, Gabriele feels drawn to Alentejo where he was born, and promises to text along the way for as long as he can. We both know coverage will be spotty the further into the region he travels. He takes one of the cameras but leaves his guitar, though I suspect that is more a gesture of comfort for me than anything else.

A strange restlessness settles through me as I move through the rooms, making it impossible to concentrate on a book or anything that keeps me still. I begin combing through the large collection of sheet music and composition books in the music room, knowing the project will occupy me for hours. Inside a notebook, I find an escapee from the archived boxes of old compositions, written in my hand with Edward's comments in the margins. My curiosity piqued, I retrieve the storage boxes from my trunk and hunt for the place where this sheet belongs. I clean as I go, meticulously removing errant marks from the pages and re-inking faded notes.

My phone chimes throughout the day with Gabriele's texts as he travels. Saragossa, Madrid, Caceres, Badajoz, tracing his route west through Spain and into Portugal. The messages are brief and, I think, illustrative of the way he has been closing in on himself during the last several weeks. _I shouldn't have let him go._

I scan the fragile pages of music carefully to digitize the notes into an electronic catalogue, ignoring the day slipping by; it is evening by the time the project is complete. Before returning the boxes to storage, I sit at the piano to play each piece, surrendering completely to the music for the first time in years.

Memories assail me with bruising clarity as I play, washing through me in a deluge. Miranda's gentle smile as we walk through Union Station, the humans of St. Louis streaming slowly around us. Racing bicycles through Central Park with Edward at my side, our wild laughter echoing like bells in the moonlit air. Demetri's eyes appraising me across a crowded nightclub in West Hollywood, and his smile as I play. Lying on a Wyoming prairie next to Daniel, watching the stars explode while he whispers in my ear. Gabriele, stretched out on the floor in a pool of afternoon sunlight, lazily scratching the grey cat's ears.

The notes send me soaring so high it hurts, filling me until I am close to bursting. For the first time since Gabriele left, I am grateful for his absence. I'm uncertain I could explain the many reasons behind this outpouring of emotion; my shaking hands and gasps would only distress and confuse him. It is this thought that helps me regain control, to finish playing and pack up the boxes.

As I often do when I need distraction, I surround myself with humans by walking among the city's night crowds. The weather is balmy, drawing locals and tourists to congregate on every possible foot of La Rambla and the surrounding neighborhoods. I'm grateful for their hovering, noisy activities and slip among them quietly in hopes of absorbing their collective energy.

I don't know when my hunger wakes. A sudden gush of venom in my mouth surprises me as I watch a group of prostitutes doing business from a side alley. I have already begun to assume a hunting posture, moving stealthily into the darker shadows, when I come to my senses. The tremor running through me is more fury at my near mistake than thirst. Rather than hiding in the house, I ride the motorcycle north out of the city to hunt, glutting myself on deer until I can drink no more.

It is raining when I climb the stairs to the roof, sitting on the building's edge to enjoy the hushed city around me as dawn approaches. It's been hours since Gabriele and I exchanged texts and I wonder if he has made it to his family's old home. I wonder if his sky is clear, or smudged with clouds like the one above me. I wonder if he is thinking of me…. or if he has made up his mind to return or to leave.

It doesn't strike me that I am following him until I am astride my bike with the rain splattering against the helmet's shield. Barcelona is behind me when I realize this is the rashest thing I have done in the last fifty years, a thought that makes me laugh. I know little about Gabriele's birthplace, only the name of the nearest town and that the farm is a couple of miles into the hills with few close neighbors. Whether any of his extended family still resides there is a mystery. I'm not sure Gabriele is even in Alentejo; his last text was just after crossing into central Portugal.

Rain and clouds darken most of the day, allowing me to travel unhindered and stop only for petrol. I cross into Portugal at sunset as the skies clear, and it is fully dark when I reach Monte de Viseus. The motorcycle draws the attention of many, and I feel curious eyes on me as I walk through the tiny town's center asking for directions. There is no sign of our car and no trace of Gabriele's scent, though this doesn't surprise me. His stopping here would be a calculated risk given his family was well known and he had reached age twelve before leaving.

Some old men playing chess outside the cafe set me on the right path to the Carvalho farm. They direct me south, toward a dirt road, and draw a rough map on a paper napkin that they press into my hand.

"Você não encontrará ninguém lá, menina," says an old man with particularly sharp black eyes. "A fazenda ainda é abandonada."

"Abandonada?" I ask softly. It surprises me to think that the farmhouse and land would be unused for so many years.

"A terra é trabalhada, mas ninguém que vive estadias lá." His gaze is piercing, wandering over my face, and following my hands when they move.

"Obrigado, Avô," I reply, intrigued by his choice of words: _no one living stays there._ I can't help wondering what he suspects truly happened to the last survivor of the Carvalho family.

The directions are faithful and soon I am parking the Triumph near the shell of what was once Gabriele's home. The silence surrounding the farm is absolute after the roar of the bike's engine, and nearly oppressive. I walk the property, my boots crunching on the dirt, looking at the remains of the dwelling. The old man's words echo in my head when I pause by a crumbling wall. _The farm is still abandoned. The land is worked, but no one living stays there._ I am the only thing near human to have walked here in some time; there is no trace of Gabriele anywhere.

The moon is not full but bright, throwing a nearby copse of cork oak into relief, the tree branches rustling invitingly in the breeze. The air is heavy with heat and the sweet smell of grass as I arrange myself under the trees. I watch the moon's easy circuit through the sky, marveling at the brightness and number of the stars before they are slowly swallowed by the dawn.

I see few signs of life from my spot in the shade during the hot, lazy hours of the day and no humans at all. From behind closed eyes, I listen to lonely birdsongs, the vibrations of insect wings, and the whisper of tiny mouse feet. Surrounding them all is the constant rustle of warm breezes traveling through the grass. A little brown dog finds me at midday, and stretches out beside me under the tree to nap. His playful, sleeping growls are loud in the enormous silence and I cannot help my smile as I watch him twitch, wondering what he is chasing in his dreams.

The weather turns as the day wanes, clouds slowly rolling over the horizon like a cloak. By dusk, the rain has begun, prompting the brown dog to make his way home. Evening settles over the hills and the rain continues, soaking into the earth and gathering on the leaves over my head. Without the moon and stars, the night is a depthless expanse of inky black broken only by the sound of the raindrops.

I smell Gabriele at the same moment I hear his footfalls on the wet ground, approaching from the south, a direction I did not anticipate. My yearning to rise and embrace him is powerful and I wind my arms around myself to keep my composure. The scents of birch and sweet vetiver fill my nose as he settles himself next to me, close to my side but not touching.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is soft and touched with wonder.

"I didn't have anything better to do," I reply lightly, looking steadily at the ground.

His voice is curious and gently amused. "So you decided to camp by a burned out farmhouse in the middle of nowhere?"

"In the rain," I remind him. "I'm getting in touch with my inner Hemingway. Minus the bullfighting, of course."

I smile, feeling Gabriele's gaze on the side of my face, though I can't bring myself to meet his eyes.

"How long have you been here?"

"Since last night."

"That would explain why you haven't responded to my texts."

Grimacing, I push the wet hair from my face with my fingers. "I'm sorry about that. I wasn't trying to ignore you. I... let my impulse get away from me. Again. This trip wasn't planned out very well."

"It's not entirely your fault," Gabriele says kindly. "I decided to go to Porto first, on a spur of the moment. Otherwise, I might have been here last night, too." He still has friends and family in Porto that he tracks, carefully concealing his tracks to avoid alerting them.

We sit quietly for a time, listening to the rain before Gabriele speaks again. His low voice is charged with emotion. "Why are you here, Julia?"

I raise my gaze to his beautiful face, seeing a mixture of caution and nervousness in the fine features. I smile softly at him. "I'm here for you."

Gabriele's expression grows serious as we watch each other. "You didn't trust me to come back?"

"I did trust you," I reply. "I trusted you to make the right decision for yourself."

"But..." he probes, his expression encouraging.

"But, if the time has come for us to part ways, I wanted to find you to say goodbye. And to let you know how much I will miss you." I shrug, licking my lips as I gather my thoughts. "I never had the chance to say goodbye with Miranda or Daniel; those friendships ruptured. Daniel and I... we will never be friends again. And even if I knew where Miranda was, I'm not sure our friendship would be intact.

"My friendship with Edward was very different," I say, watching the way the skin tightens around his eyes at the mention of Edward's name. "I've told you how hard it was to make the decision to cut ties. But it was the right thing to do and certainly, what I needed. Edward and I went about it the right way... together."

"You also love him, Julia. Certainly that has something to do with it," he says in a measured tone.

I nod readily. "Love is a small part of it, certainly, but it's by no means everything, Gab. I don't see Edward and that has been my choice. But I don't begrudge him his happiness."

"Even though he's happy with someone else."

"Yes. And I want that with you. If you're ready to leave, I mean. If we're not together, I want to take pleasure in your happiness."

Gabriele's eyes and voice are grave as he watches me. "What if you're the one that's ready to leave?"

Without taking my eyes from his, I find his hand and bring it to rest between my own, both of us sighing at the contact. If my heart could still beat, it would be hammering out of my chest. "I've told you, Gab; I'm not going anywhere without you. Unless you ask me to."

"I don't want you to go anywhere, doce," he says, cupping my cheek with his free hand, fingers cool on my wet skin.

My breath hitches in my throat as I lean forward to press my mouth to his ear, my lips moving to whisper the things I feel, the things he wants to know. Gabriele's hands cradle my head against his before moving around my shoulders, drawing me closer until I am in his lap, my arms tight around his neck. Wrapped around each other there in the dark, I find a spark of light.

….

Gabriele joins me at the desk as I am dropping the tiny drive in a mailer. He curls one hand on my hip while using the other to balance the cat, draped and purring over his shoulder.

"What's this?" he asks, his eyes alight with curiosity.

"Copies of the compositions Edward and I wrote," I reply with a grin, my pen poised over the name card I planned to include with the drive. "I took your advice and made copies of everything; I'm going to send them to him."

He smiles brightly, looking so pleased I roll my eyes. "Are you going to give him our address? I think you should, even if it's just an email address."

I cock my head at him when he lays his hand along the side of my neck. "Why should I after all this time?"

"Precisely because it's been a long time, doce. And you're done hiding," he says.

And, just like that, it's easy to write an email address at the bottom of the card before dropping it the mailer with the drive. Gabriele leans to press his lips just in front of my ear, pulling me close when the grey cat leaps to the ground and stalks off.

"That looked an awful lot like my email address on the card, Julia," he murmurs.

"That's because it was," I reply. "That's what you get for being so smart."

I manage to grin at his outraged expression and press a quick kiss against his chin before darting out of his grasp and racing for the roof. His growl is loud but playful when I let him catch me inside the door, dissolving into laughter that mixes with mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought Julia was going to crush that sweet boy, didn't you? Tsk, tsk ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading and reviewing, if you leave one. I love hearing from you. 
> 
> Notes: I used an English-to-Portuguese translation website for the dialogue between Julia and the old man in Monte de Visueus. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> doce = sweet, gentle
> 
> "Você não encontrará ninguém lá, menina. A fazenda ainda é abandonada." = You won't find anyone there,.
> 
> "A terra é trabalhada, mas ninguém que vive estadias lá." = The land is worked, but no one living stays there.
> 
> "Obrigado, Avô." = Thank you, Grandfather.


End file.
